* f 

1- 


If’J 


: t y\ 


'Vi 


,«'l 


t? 


iH 




I ^ H i ^ i: 


Ifi: 


lEj i ^ ; T’ 


t tl 


■H' 


% 


:» ! 


H 


\m\ 




Hill! 




• ;■ M' i ; 

- • * ? 


s 1 » « #» ' 


J i 


■ 1 < 




V, : K-r :ii;i:i.uh;i 

• t r 1 > 1 1 1 i I » 1 : 1 1 [ 4 1 } t M H n 

r; ; : k f 1 1 : n r, L K 1 1 H 1 ; M ( r 

! : i i * I ■■ 1 • M : } i 1 1 [ i 5 it n : H , 

I in • i k i t r t : 5 > : * j I ! : f >! r{ 

: 'I t > 1 f i ^ ‘ i U] ^ ill 

I 1 ( I ti [ 4 * < 1 I (HS? f 


I 




I : 


mi 


■ilUhhH!' 


i '- 




t ? 






' t : r > 


J . I ■ 


;li 


M 




• '»- 


n 


I : . I 




tt 


I C M 


}} 


t ; > 


iMi-: 


: il: I 


> 


• •'llj V* 

y^\ 

: i: K 




; * 5 


^ r f 


’- » 






Hi 

t^nhfus luibilut 

l { k I c i b ( n 

iilliiH 1 


nim 
: {Uinniu 


I l! ! 


iij 


t 


I 




I 




; t : :i : 1 1 


I 


1 1 


{: 


I r 


. i 


I V > r X i I 


■ / , M 




, t j 




t - . 


; j • i 1 1 


r 


: i f ' 


II 


I M ( 1 1 


* i 


, J t 


t i» 


4? 't ’ 


1 1 


ni 


I ; ! I i 


1 » 1 




in' 


>:tj ) 


i5 it! 


i 1.1 


i< i 


I ; « 


1 . Ti ; . 


m 


i : 


' :il 


\iMi 


, t.- 


If). 


<) 


:Ui 


> * J 




:: a I ' t 


. 7 n ■’ 


ir 


■ li 


I ) 


' I] 


h.-’ 




i\l. f 


' -• ? 


umHi 


i . » 


4 ' 


n 


121 


111 


ii 


Hi' 


41 - Ol 

[iM 


i.r. 




. f ? 


I f 


M} 


:i:a. 






J ; i ' 


■ S 3 ( ^ 


r ^ « V f ' 


[?• 


la 


It 




* VH 


1 » 


iii 


4Si 


St 


: 4 ? 


i J 5. !: 


irJ 


ftii 


^ f i. 


. 1 : .: 




S' i’ i : 


I, 


> I : t J 1 1 1 




Ub 


Hi 


? : 


!IT 


I « . 


i’\n 


• * V > 

i>:i 


I j 


HUi! 


Iii 


11 


T I 


,1MI. 


!l 


iHl 


i 


1 ) 




I 1 

M i 9 i 


I' i 


iinn 


m 


» » » f 




S * A if 

A. iL r <• % 4 

mr 


liifVi;... 
Ir^»l 


• > ^ ' 


/ c : 


f > 


i f?i 




iLt; 


> ij 


i!la: 


>{!. 


tai: 


!t) 


Iii! 


iiili 


Hill 




Iff 


tf ! 


*|t tjSIf i 


MlW 


} 


tt 


ifkt *1 


: ( 


n 


'ft 


1U> 


Hi 


it: 


u 


A ♦ ' 

Hi 


: f r?: 


ii' 


RH: 

' ' 1* I f 


ti I f I 


> ) 


i t : 


Ufi 


:u 


n 


I ] 


I X : 




1 • 1 n 


:h 






Hli 


rif Ui^ 


I I 


!h 


jnii 


1 1 


bb{1 


[* I 


iUi 


nlHliHill 

Hlill 


t 


! 


i! 1 


pi! ill 

lb H U i 


1! 


: I 


h 


n 


w 


» r 1 1 


1 


m 


nifliibniiMibiH: 

MMM ■ 'IMIiil'; 

! I ri ? 1 1 - t H ? U : : r ; : ; 1 7 , i ; ; ! ; ' 


1, 


1 1 ] 


I ; \ 


li 


III! 


lit 


1 1 


! 1 1 k 


\ii\ 


M 


tu 


1 

Hi 


M! 


pt; 


H\\\ 


iiii; 


u 


u 


\i\ 


it; 


i t 


:it; 


i 


I * ' 

!; f 


iilfTt?! 
n ill! 
il iiii 




fl |{. .f J i f ;,1 >1 ; 1 1 I « U I : It 

rii 

b 1 ; •?» 1 1 1 *1 M - • ”1- b i- ‘ ' ‘i Ml 

c .:\\ '.li.'iilHririi ‘iiu iiS 

• 


mt' 


H 


JlrU 


t 4 { ■ 


It 


i t 






iii; 


Mil 


rr, i. i. : 






lit 


;|)H 


r 


j : r i : i » t 

brbh! 

j,{H" 


J Ml 


iT 1 L J 


J r , 


III 


n 


t: 


.1 


ti 


I 


ih 


i !• r H ? 1 1 » r t a 


‘I 


t : 


J . 


•i 


: t . 


1 1 


tt; 


|1 


nm ilH 

; s f U 1 1 : 1 1 1 1 U J 

: t : : 1 1 ; 1 1 1 » : } ) : 


ml 


m 


n 


41 5 t » ■ - - ■ a . 

Ipi I T f ? M *. -1 ti :p •, i 

M- P-i ij? M ' 

iHHf liiilHihnih 




{!?> 


11 


a 


« f : 






milnl 


lU 


. s t ^ ■ 


‘ :• ^ t 








Ws 


ipif: 


J *4.5 b i 


1 


. J i ; « 




*/ 




«> 


.rUli 


It; 


> U 4 J 


Piil 


} ’J 




|21 


I > 


r,«7ifc« 


ilh 


?i^ 


Hi 


4-^ 


if 


mil- 


ini 




liiHHbiU 


liiiHi 


ii 


1! lliip 1 lilsiil 

thrllHl’M 

nHilmu! 
ij ii 
n?H 


i t- 


i»r 1 




_ !i 
Mi lui.) 

ilMn! 

• 111 " 
fit: 
i 


t:« 


.H'liiii I 




.f! 


it 


i 








111 



















Class 

Book 

GojpglrtN® 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


9 


\ 


t 

f ' 

f 






» 




« 5 -'' ‘ 








# 





s 


A 
















AMERICAN BOYS’ SERIES 


The books selected for this ieries are 
all thoroughly American, by such laro- 
rite American authors of boys* cooks 
as Oliver Optic, Elijah Kellogg, Prof. 
James DeMille, and others, now made 
for the first time at a largely reduced 
price, in order to bring them within the 
reach of all. Each volume complete 
in itself. 

Uniform Cloth Binding Illus- 
trated New and Attractive Dibs 
Price per volume $1.00 

1. Adrift in the Ice Fields By Capt. Chas. W. Hall 

2. All Aboard or Life on the Lake By Oliver Optic 

3. Ark of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

4. Arthur Brown the Young Captain By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

5. Boat Club, The, or the Bunkers of Rippleton By Oliver Optic 

6. Boy Farmers of Elm Island, The By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

7. Boys of Grand Pr6 School By Prof. James DeMille 

8. “B. O. W. C.”, The By Prof. James DeMille 

9. Brought to the Front or the Young Defenders By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

10. Burying the Hatchet or the Young Brave of the Delawares 

By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

11. Cast Away in the Cold By Dr. Isaac 1. Hayes 

12. Charlie Bell the Waif of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

13. Child of the Island Glen By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

14. Crossing the Quicksands By Samuel W. Cozzens 
16. Cruise of the Casco By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

16. Fire in the Woods By Prof. James DeMille 

17. Fisher Boys of Pleasant Cove By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

18. Forest Glen or the Mohawk’s Friendship By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

19. Good Old Times By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

20. Hardscrabble of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

21. Haste or Waste or the Young Pilot of Lake Champlain 

By Oliver Optic 

22. Hope and Have By Oliver Optic 

23. In School and Out or the Conquest of Richard Grant By 

Oliver Optic 

24. John Godsoe’s Legacy By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 



LEE and SHEPARD Publishers Boston 



AMERICAN BOYS’ SERIES — Continued 


25. Just His Luck By Oliver Optic 

26. Lion Ben of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

27. Little by Little or the Cruise of the Flyaway By Oliver 

Optic 

28. Live Oak Boys or the Adventures of Richard Constable 

Afloat and Ashore By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

29. Lost in the Fog By Prof. James DeMille 

30. Mission of Black Rifle or On the Trail By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

31. Now OR Never or the Adventures of Bobby Bright By 

Oliver Optic 

32. Poor and Proud or the Fortunes or Kate Redburn By 

Oliver Optic 

33. Rich and Humble or tbe Mission of Bertha Grant By 

Oliver Optic 

34. Sophomores of Radcliffe or James Trafton and His Bos- 

ton Friends By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

35. Sowed by the Wind or the Poor Boy’s Fortune By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

36. Spark of Genius or the College Life of James Trafton By 

Elijah Kellogg 

37. Stout Heart or the Student from Over the Sea By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

38. Strong Arm and a Mother’s Blessing By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

39. Treasure of the Sea By Prof. James DeMille 

40. Try Again or the Trials and Triumphs of Harry West By 

Oliver Optic 

41. Turning of the Tide or Radcliffe Rich and his Patients 

By Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

42. Unseen Hand or James Renfew and His Boy Helpers By 

Rev. Elijah Kellogg 

43. Watch and Wait or the Young Fugitives By Oliver 

Optic 

44. Whispering Pine or the Graduates of Radcliffe By Rev. 

Elijah Kellogg 

45. Winning H^ Spurs or Henry Morton’s First Trial By Rev 

Elijah Kellogg 

46. Wolf Run or the Boys of the Wilderness By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

47. Work and Win or Noddy Newman on a Cruise By Oliver 

Optic 

48. Young Deliverers of Pleasant Cove By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

49. Young Shipbuilders of Elm Island By Rev. Elijah 

Kellogg 

60. Young Trail Hunters By Samuel W. Cozzens 


LEE and SHEPARD Publishers Boston 


AMERICAN BOYS* SERIES 
ADDED IN 1900 


TN 1899 we increased this immensely popular series of choice copyrighted 
-I- books by representative American writers for the young to fifty titles. In 
1900 we added the ten following well-known books, making an important ad- 
dition to an already strong list : 

51. Field and Forest or The Fortunes of a Farmer By Oliver Optic 

52. Outward Bound or Young America Afloat By Oliver Optic 

53. The Soldier Boy or Tom Somers in the Army By Oliver Optic 

54. The Starry Flag or The Young Fisherman of Cape Ann By Oliver 

Optic 

55. Through by Daylight or The Young Engineer of the Lake Shore 

Railroad By Oliver Optic 

56. Cruises with Captain Bob around the Kitchen Fire By 

B. P. Shillaber (Mrs. Partington) 

57. The Double=Runner Club or The Lively Boys of Rivertown By 

B. P. Shillaber (Mrs. Partington) 

58. Ike Partington and His Friends or The Humors of a Human 

Boy By B. P. Shillaber (Mrs. Partington) 

59. Locke Amsden the Schoolmaster By Judge D. P. Thompson 

60. The Rangers By Judge D. P. Thompson 


ADDED IN 1901 

T his year we still further increase this list, which has become standard 
throughout the country, by adding the ever-popular “Green Mountain 
Boys ” and four volumes of “ Oliver Optic,” “ All Over the World Library,” 
especially timely books in view of the present interest in Asiatic matters. 

61. The Green Mountain Boys By Judge D. P. Thompson 
62. A Missing Million or The Adventures of Louis Belgrave By Oliver 
Optic 

63. A Millionaire at Sixteen or The Cruise of the “ Guardian Mother” 
By Oliver Optic 

64. A Young Knight Errant or Cruising in the West Indies By Oliver 
Optic 

65. Strange Sights Abroad or Adventures in European Waters By 
Oliver Optic 


Lee and Shepard Publishers Boston 





« * 


.^ r- .•' • i-;.: 









#' V » i 




• r’- . /J '> A 

/ ■ . .^ '• 

#• •. 9 


> J? .* : 





« >• 



' l^ t 



%w.- 


■■ 



'1 








vn| ' 


■ K r 


jfi: 




■-■'■" 'it 

%'“ -■ -■“'i ^ 

M' V, A r. v^«ar] ^ 




■•0 




^ m 


■ i J< i 

j »i 



r^ v .. ( , 

• ?♦««> n 

tn 



:L* v': 


iKi 

'• -i',' 




I 

r. 


'v.r* 





J^^• 













Coast of Argyle. Page 12 







THE WHISPERING PINE SERIES. 

\ 


A STOUT HEART ; 

OR, 


THE STUDENT FROM OVER THE SEA. 


BY 


ELIJAH KELLOGG, 

t \ 

AUTHOR OF “LION BEN,’’ “CHARLIE BELL,” “THE ARK OF ELM ISLAND,” “THE BOt 
FARMERS,” “THE YOUNG SHIP-BUILDERS,” “THE IlARD-SCRABBLE,” “ARTHUR 
BROWN,” “THE YOUNG DELIVERERS,” “THE CRUISE OF THE CASCO,” 

“ THE CHILD OF THE ISLAND GLEN,” “ JOHN GODSOE’S LEGACY,” 

“THE FISHER BOYS,” “THE SPARK OF GENIUS,” “THE 
SOPHOMORES OF RADCLIFFE," “THE WHISPER- 
ING PINE,” “ THE TURNING OF THE TIDE,” 

“ WHNNING HIS SPURS,” ETC. 






> 

) 

> 

) 


*0 ) 

) J 
) 





) ) 
) 

O ) 


f) 

y y 



y 

y 

■5 


> 

) 

) 


> 

) 

y 


BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 


TZi 


5^ 


THE LIBRARY OP 
eGNGRESS, 
Two CO«B* flECetVFB 

APR. to 1902 

Cormmrr bntrv 
CLA^ ^XXr No. 

/ L 

COPY a 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, 
By lee and SHEPARD, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
Copyright, 1901, by Frank G. Kellogg. 


A STOUT HEART. 


PREFACE. 


Youth who resolve to cut their way to suc^ 
cess in life encounter no greater difficulties than 
those occasioned by an ungovernable temper ; 
since this is not only a detriment in itself, but 
likewise begets others by alienating those whose 
aid and sympathy are of untold value, and is in 
itself a positive transgression and a source of 
misery to the individual. 

There is no war like a civil war. When a man^s 
foes are those of his own household, the conflict 
becomes bloody, and few obtain the victory. 
Hence the conquest of self has ever been es- 
teemed by the wise and good as the highest 
achievement. 

Born in a mud cot, tialf grown before he had 

3 


4 


PREFACE. 


even seen a book, and pressed with poverty, it 
would seem that there were obstacles enough 
between James Macgregor and a collegiate edu- 
cation to appall him, without the addition of an 
ungovernable temper he had never, either by 
precept or example, been taught to control. But 
the passions are, like the wind to a ship, the 
motive power ; and this young savage, in virtue 
of a bitter experience, by the advice of judicious 
friends, and the aid of divine grace, though often 
on the verge of shipwreck, weathered the storm, 
and became an honored and useful man. 

This story is far from being a fancy sketch; 
and if any boy, striving to make the most of 
himself, is troubled with an ill temper, we would, 
in closing this series, say to him, — Be not dis- 
heartened ; or, in the language of Allan Mac- 
gregor, in parting with his son, — 

Set a stout heart to a stey (steep) brae, 
Jamie.” 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

The Brae Side 9 

CHAPTER II. 

The Highland Home. i8 

CHAPTER III. 


Clanship 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

Angus Macgregor 38 

CHAPTER V. 

« 

The Vengeance of the Gael 48 


CHAPTER VI. 

Living by the Claymore. . ' 58 

CHAPTER VII. 

Conflict of the Old and New. . . . ,68 

5 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


The Exiles 76 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Return 86 

CHAPTER X. 

Military Enthusiasm 96 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Clan Fight. 106 

CHAPTER XII. 

Triumph of the Macgregors 116 


CHAPTER XIII. 


The Good Shepherd. 126 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Solution 135 

CHAPTER XV. 

The First Book. 141 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Death of Angus. 147 


CONTENTS 


7 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“Poverty the Mither o’ a’ Arts.” . . . .155 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The MACGREGOR RISES 164 

CHAPTER XIX. 

James resolves to emigrate. . . , .170 

CHAPTER XX. 

“Blood is thicker than Water.” . . *177 

CHAPTER XXI. 

James in College 187 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Ice broken. ....... 196 

CHAPTER XXIII. 


The Old Spirit breaks loose. 


212 


* 


‘ ^ 




'• I 


%K 


.<•. 




mf 




w*'*^ 



I * 


■ t. '* 


iry'^' 


• V I 




• ^• 


J( .1 




^ . * ♦ 


:■*» 


• - J ' ■ 

h 

1% " ^ c 

4^ » > S 


^ ' WiS’vvi 


•t- 


f ! 








•c'-; 


r* . 4 


!>■; ii*'? 


‘*!N * t i • 

. - » «r * • / 


•yj 


« f ,«» 


y »• 




t f p 

•), • f 


'». r 


4 ii’- ^ 






nr> 


V.' 






> 








v* 








V- 


1^ 


Aj 

•A 


* » 






9 

.. ./ 


‘\ 


ki 


wJ 


r o >iiiif;' >'■ 


a; :: * 




*f 




ii. 


p a 


.t- 




/ n 




' . •* 1 




« i 




Lw: • '; 


^ ♦- 




i 1^4 


> • I 


^ ‘-i 


if 


r?'y*!®. 


E 




. / 


8S{r< ;.r . iff V 4* ... .♦. ■ 

Ski:. ’* 




Qi 








* W 


lY- 


»•- 






'amT- 




p-' t ' '-^v-'i' •'" 

C’Va > " .‘ ' if*»i 


^1 


J/- 








•a T 




:t¥ 




I 


>V 


■ ‘W^- .• *” 

111 V 

%. 


\'L 


:h% 


J'i Ml’ 


0 » 


[fi^kp 


/ . -t 


JtiUl 








A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE BRAE SIDE. 

O N the coast of Argyle, where the roots of the 
Highland hills, as they meet the shore, well 
nigh encirle a few acres of arable land, bordered 
by a beach of white sand strewn with immense 
rocks that had fallen from the cliffs, stood, at the 
date of our story, a Highland cot, rude in form, 
and still ruder in material, but affording shel- 
ter and all requisite comfort to its hardy oc- 
cupants. 

The mountains, at one extremity of this flat, 
met the waves in a perpendicular wall, over which 
poured a foaming torrent, its white froth visible at 
some distance on the water ; while at the opposite 
extremit}^ they terminated in a long point, forming 
by its shape a shelter for boats when the wind 
blew from certain quarters. Where the curve 
of the land was sharpest, affording the most lee, 
was built a small wharf of stone, the cove — if it 

9 


10 


A STOUT HEART. 


deserved that name — being at best a very indif- 
ferent harbor even for boats. 

A considerable portion of the point was covered 
with birches, ragged and dwarfed by the violence 
of the ocean gales. At its extremity the frost had 
crumbled, and the action of the waves, that in 
high tides broke upon it, washed away the earth, 
leaving a flat, smooth ledge, some two feet below 
the earth, behind it. From this bank protruded 
a multitude of dead roots of trees, dry and black- 
ened ia-the sun and wind, and forming a barrier to 
retain chips and other drift stuff*. 

On the ledge, accessible only to the highest 
tides, lies an old boat, bottom up, against the bank ; 
her planks are so warped in the weather that the 
oakum is hanging from their edges in long strings. 
The nails have started from the timbers, and 
the pitch is cleaving in large flakes from the 
plank. 

It is about eleven o’clock in the forenoon ; but 
every object is enveloped in a dense fog — one 
of those Scotch mists that, it is said, will wet an 
Englishman to the skin.” At a little distance from 
the old boat are three Highland children, a boy 
and two girls ; the boy, named James, is eleven 
years old, but large for his age ; one of the girls, 
Agnes, is nine ; the other, Jenny, is seven. 

Proceeding to the extremity of the point, they 
stood for a few moments peering seaward into the 
fog, and listening intently ; but apparently hearing 


THE BRAE SIDE. 


11 


nothing to reward their attention, they, with one 
consent, began to make preparations for a fire in 
front of the boat — no easy matter, it would seem, 
when everything was wet and dripping with 
mist. 

In the first place they broke off the dead roots 
that stuck out from the bank, and gathered up, the 
little girls, in their aprons, the drift chips, and suc- 
ceeded in raising quite a pile of material, that 
was, indeed, dry inside, but too wet without to 
kindle. They then found some few sticks and 
dead branches among the trees, and stripped some 
of the outside bark from the birches ; but this also 
was wet. 

How shall we kindle it, Jamie Agnes 
said. 

“ I’ll show you.” 

Jamie crawled under the boat, and, taking with 
him a piece of the birch bark, collected a quantity 
of the pitch, that, lying in flakes on the inside 
of the planks, where it was protected from the 
weather, was dry. There were also some strings 
of oakum, saturated with pitch and grease, hang- 
ing from the edges of the planks, and perfectly 
dry. These he likewise obtained, and, putting 
them all on the birch bark, rolled it up. 

Now, Agnes,” he said, gang to the house and 
fetch a fire coal.” 

With this he soon kindled the bark and pitch, 
and thrusting them beneath the pile of combus- 


12 


A STOUT HEART. 


tibles, the whole blazed up brightly, for there was 
power sufficient in the pitch to sustain the flame 
till the moisture of the mist was dried from the 
wood and chips. 

The little girls now continued to feed the flame 
with the oakum, which they made into little balls 
and flung into the Are from time to time, causing 
it to blaze up brightly, and also with pieces of the 
ceiling of the boat that was dropping out. 

Jarnie had brought with him to the place the 
swing, or striking part, of a flail, made of thorn 
tree — a very firm, heavy wood. Clambering upon 
the top of the boat, he would strike four or five 
times with all his might upon the bottom, and till 
he was red in the face and quite out of breath, 
and then all three united their voices in a shrill 
scream, after which they again listened intently. 

These little folk were all barefooted and bare- 
headed. The girls were dressed in blue woollen 
gowns, made and colored at home ; the boy in 
trousers and waistcoat of the same stuff*, the 
former reaching partly down the thighs, and a 
sort of tartan plaid with short sleeves, that 
seemed to have been made from some cast-off* 
garment of his elders. 

But, though dressed very much in the Lowland 
fashion, these children were of pure Highland 
blood, and descended from one of the most res- 
olute and ferocious of all the Highland clans, 
whom the government could neither coerce nor 


THE BRAE SIDE. 


13 


extirpate. They had also, by being brought into 
constant communication with the Lowland Scotch 
and English, in consequence of residing on the 
sea-coast, learned their language. 

At the time of which we are about to speak, 
those barriers, which for ages made the Highlands 
a world by themselves, had been flung down, by 
the power of the sword, the progress of civiliza- 
tion and traffic, and especially along that portion 
of the country bordering upon the sea, had caused 
the native Gaelic to be, in a measure, superseded, 
except in family converse. 

The children continued their efibrts, and in the 
course of half an hour an answering hail was 
heard, followed by the sound of oars ; and, the 
fog lifting somewhat, a boat pulled by a single 
man was discovered heading for the point, but 
the next moment was again hidden by the shut- 
ting down of the mist. 

Jamie continued to pound at intervals, and the 
girls to clash stones together in their hands, till 
the boat, doubling the point, shot alongside the 
rude pier, and the children crowded into it to 
greet their father, for whose direction through 
the mist they had made the signals. 

Sound, in thick weather, can be heard much 
farther than a light can be seen. You can often 
hear the lighthouse keeper’s rooster crow, when 
you cannot see the light he tends, in a dense fog 
or a snow-storm. The mother, aware of this, had 


14 


A STOUT HEART. 


sent the children to pound on the boat and halloo. 
The fire was an aflfair of their own. 

As the boat neared the rude wharf, its occupant, 
a tall Highlander, bronzed with wind and weather, 
stood up, and, shipping his oars, flung to the ex- 
pectant boy a birch withe, that, in lieu of a rope, 
served to fasten the craft. The boy, seizing it, 
took a turn round a flat stone set upright in the 
wharf, securing it with two half hitches, and then, 
flinging his arras around the neck of that stern, 
hard-featured man, was taken down into the boat. 
A glad smile, like a flash of sunlight athwart the 
storm-beaten cliff*, broke over the rugged features 
of the parent as he stretched out his hands to the 
little girls, and, after kissing them tenderly, placed 
them beside their brother in the stern-sheets of 
the boat. 

This was Allan Macgregor, who, though sur- 
rounded by so young a family, was about sixty 
years of age ; still it was manifest, from the free- 
dom and ease of his movements in the rocking 
craft, that years had not diminished his physical 
strength or activity. His hair and beard were 
but slightly touched with gray, the fire of his 
eye was not dimmed, and age had as yet made 
slight impression upon a constitution of iron 
mould, and hardened by toil and constant ex- 
posure among his native mountains and on fields 
of battle in foreign lands. 

The boat was nearly loaded with codfish, had* 


THE BRAE SIDE. 


15 


dock, and ling, a fisli that abounds on the coasts 
of Norway and Scotland, similar in size and 
appearance to the cod, and cured in the same way. 

^‘0, father cried Jamie, clapping his hands, 
hae ye no had bonny luck ? Sae big fish, and 
sae mony 1 ” 

Deed, my bairns,’’ he replied, wringing the 
water from his bonnet, — for he was also arrayed 
in the Highland garb, with the exception of the 
plaid that lay in the bow of the boat, and which he 
had flung off while rowing, — I couldna hae 
pu’d them ony faster unless I had twa pair of 
hands.” 

Father,” said Agnes, “ s’all I carry a fish to 
mother ? ” 

Ye canna carry it, chield ; let Jamie take 
it, and you and Jinny gang to your grandfa- 
ther ; I see him coming to speer about my 
luck.” 

After cleaning one of the fish, he gave it 
to the boy, with a charge to “ gie it to his 
mother.” 

Tell her, my lad, I winna be up till I hae 
dressed and salted the fish.” 

Father,” said Jenny, didna ye see our fire? 
We made a fire. Didna ye see the light ? ” 

“We skirled,” said Agnes; “ didna ye hear the 
skirling ? ” 

“ I pounded on the boat,” said J amie ; “ didna 
ye hear that ? ” 


16 


A STOUT HEART. 


Nae doubt 1 heard that ; then I heard the skir- 
ling ; neist I saw the licht.” 

The little girls now hastened to meet their 
grandparent and escort him to the boat, one tak- 
ing hold of either hand. 

The form of Angus Macgregor was one to 
challenge attention. More than six feet in height, 
and large of limb, his form, though shrivelled by 
age, was still erect. He resembled some ancient 
tower, weather-worn and battered, but entire. 

More than eighty years of age, he wore the full 
dress of his native country, that displayed to 
great advantage his commanding form. His 
feet were shod with the brogues, hair side 
out, resembling the Indian moccason ; tartan 
hose, gartered below the knee, covered his legs ; 
the kilt, made in the form of a petticoat, in 
folds, not only gave increased warmth, but also 
shed rain and snow, like the shingles upon a 
roof, and extended partly down the thighs. The 
upper portion of the body was covered by a long 
shirt of linen, home-made, and over all the plaid. 
This, like the hose and kilt, was of bright colors, 
red predominating, twelve yards in length, part 
of it wrapped around the waist, and the remainder 
brought over the shoulder and fastened under the 
neck. It was also confined at the waist by a belt, 
in which he wore, before the power of the High- 
land clans was broken, claymore, dirk, and pistols, 
and bore on his left arm the target. 


THE BRAE SIDE. 


17 


His long, white locks escaped beneath the blue 
bonnet, and his step, though slow, was firm, for he 
used no staff, while the great bones and joints, 
made prominent by the wasting of the flesh, be- 
tokened a form in youth possessed of vast strength. 

Allan greeted his father with great respect, and, 
taking his plaid from the boat, spread it, thickly 
folded, on a projecting cliff, in order that he might 
have a comfortable seat, and proceeded to split and 
salt his fish. 


2 


18 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE HIGHLAND HOME. 

N otwithstanding the advanced age of 

the old warrior, he still, whenever his son 
would permit, put his hand to some light labor, 
hoed or pulled a few weeds in the kail-yard or 
among the turnips, milked, or made baskets and 
pails, and twisted withes, of which great use 
was made for various purposes, and always sowed 
the grain. 

Allan disliked to see his father work, and would 
often say, — 

Father, why dinna ye bide still, and take your 
ease by the ingleside ? Why fash yoursel wi’ 
work when I hae more strength than I ken what 
to do wi’ ? Ye’re no that gleg, auld man.” 

Sometimes the parent would take the words 
of his son in a sense different from that intended 
by the speaker, — as aged men are prone to do, — 
and reply, — 

^^Ye hae little need o’ the Campsie wife’s 
prayer, Hhat she might aye be able to think 
enough o’ hersel.’ ^ Better sma’ fish than none/ 


THE HIGHLAND HOME. 


19 


I hae seen the time I wadna hae thought muckle 
to lift you and your load.’^ 

Then Allan would hasten to apologize, and the 
father was soon pacified, for the strongest affec- 
tion existed between them, and nothing could ex- 
ceed the tender care with which this dutiful son 
cherished his parent, who now sat looking on 
while the former salted his fish in a half-hogs- 
head tub placed beneath an overhanging cliff. 
Either decay or the hand of man had removed 
so much of the lower strata of rock as to form 
a deep recess, that effectually excluded both sun 
and rain. 

“ I hae been sair troubled,’^ he said, “ anent 
your finding the way hame through the thick 
mist.” 

“Deed, I daurna weigh anchor till a vessel 
cam along that I kenned was bound into the 
loch ; then I followed till she was away in 
the fog ; and when I could see her na mair I 
heard the bairns skirling, and pu^d for the 
sound.” 

The little pier was left by the tide at low water, 
and Macgregor, after washing out his boat, by the 
aid of a small skiff put her to a mooring beneath 
the shelter of the point, where she would lie 
afioat at all times of tide, ready for use at any 
moment. 

The construction of this mooring, and the man- 
ner in which the craft was secured to it, illustrate 


20 


A STOUT HEART. 


the scarcity of money and the necessity of the 
most rigid economy in this Highland family. A 
hole being drilled in a flat rock, a small fir tree 
was dug up by the roots and stripped of its bark 
and limbs ; this pole was put through the hole in 
the rock till it rested on the roots of the tree, and 
the whole placed in the water, where the pole 
stood upright. A hole was then made in a piece 
of plank, three feet in length and eighteen inches 
wide, the hole somewhat larger than the diameter 
of the pole, and in the opposite end of this plank 
a smaller hole. A young, slim birch was then cut 
up by the roots, and the root end trimmed in such 
a manner as to leave a large bulb. By wedging 
the large end between two trees, it was twisted 
into a withe, and put through the hole in the 
plank till its farther progress was arrested by 
the bunch. This plank was next put over the 
end of the mooring-pole, and, a loop being formed 
in the smaller end of the withe, it was slipped 
over the stem of the boat. 

The plank, — or traveller, as it was named, — - 
floating on the surface of the water, and revolving 
around the pole, permitted the boat to swing in all 
directions with wind and tide ; the spring of the 
pole likewise caused her to ride easily in the surf, 
since, by yielding, it broke the force of the wave, 
and thus made up for the indifferent shelter af- 
forded by the harbor. 

Not less singular was the internal arrangements 


THE HIGHLAND HOME. 


21 


of this craft. The anchor was a flat stone fastened 
into a crotch of wood by a cross-tie of wood, whose 
sharpened ends, pressed into the mud by the 
weight of the stone, held the boat. The only piece 
of rope in her was the cable, — or road, as flsh- 
ermen term it, — and this was made by twisting 
three fishing-lines together, the lines being home- 
made, of flax raised by themselves. 

The sails were made of tow cloth woven by the 
good wife, and sewed with thread spun by her. 
In lieu of ropes, or sheets,’^ to manage the sails, 
strips of horse-hide, made supple with grease 
and smoke, were used, and the boat, inside and 
out, smeared with pitch instead of paint. 

Indeed, the same attention in respect to small 
savings, and for the same reason, — lack of money, 
— prevailed in more recent times and in other 
communities. Forty years ago wooden latches 
and fastenings of doors, both for out-buildings and 
even dwellings, were in common use in New 
England, also hinges. At that time an iron hoop 
was seldom seen on a pail or tub in the country ; 
an iron ring was never seen on a rack to tie cattle, 
or chains, either; wooden runners, similar to the 
hanks on a vessel’s jib-stay, were made use ofj and 
wooden tie-bows. Riddling sieves were bottomed 
with basket-stuff, and pressed hay bound with 
withes, also shingles and clapboards. They were 
also used in lieu of ropes and chains to bind loads 
of wood and raft logs. Wages then being low. 


22 


A STOUT HEART. 


the extra time occupied in making and using them 
was less valuable. 

At that time farmers in the country towns of 
Maine — Waldoboro’, Limington, Baldwin, Stan- 
dish, Conway, Paris, and others — used withes to 
tie up the bundles of hay they brought to feed 
their cattle on the road, and to bind the stakes in 
loads of wood and charcoal, and they were some- 
times used for a pair of steers to draw by. 

Then nearly every considerable town or village 
numbered among its citizens several revolutionary 
soldiers ; and we are sorry to say that many of 
these brave and patriotic men were hard drinkers. 
They had formed this habit in the army. In those 
days of poverty and trial the troops were scantily 
clothed, and often destitute of shoes ; could be 
tracked in the snow by the blood that oozed from 
their bare feet. At such times double allowance 
of New England rum was given to sustain the men, 
and thus a habit was formed that is rarely relin- 
quished, and they were frequently seen reeling 
through the streets. 

The veterans were by no means disposed to 
submit to imposition, and mischievous boys who 
made sport of them often came off second best. 
The boys, to protect themselves, were accustomed 
to procure the large beech withes flung away by 
the farmers ; and several of them, taking hold of 
each end, got a turn around the waist of the vet- 
eran, by which means they could lead him wher- 


THE HIGHLAND HOME. 


23 


ever they liked, and he could neither get at them, 
escape, nor pick up a stone to fling at their heads. 
And by knotting several withes together, they 
could obtain any length they wished. They also 
used them instead of jumping-ropes, for swings, 
and to try their strength — a number of boys 
choosing sides to see which side could pull the 
other. 

Thus we observe the same means made use of in 
Maine and in the Highlands of Scotland, and for 
similar reasons. 

We retain a very vivid recollection of running 
up to one of these old soldiers — William Harnse 
— as he was going home Saturday night with a 
pitcher of milk, as the phrase is, pretty well 
set up,’^ and addressing him thus : “ Mr. Harnse, 
Mr. Harnse, General Washington was a coward, 
and hid behind a stump.’^ 

In return for this observation we not only 
received the contents of the pitcher in our face 
and eyes, but the pitcher itself was broken over 
our head ; and we have known the argument for 
the defence to come in the shape of a brick-bat. 

The father and son now wended their way to 
the house, although it might, in the estimation 
of our young readers, hardly merit that appella- 
tion, being made of stones and turf, most of them 
round, picked up on the surface of the ground, 
and cemented with clay mortar. The rafters 
of the roof were trunks of trees just flattened 


24 


A STOUT HEART. 


on the upper side with the axe, and the purlins 
were made by placing small limbs across, crooked, 
full of knots, and with the bark adhering, fastened 
to the rafters with withes. This was covered 
with turfs of heather, that in that moist climate 
were growing, and the floor was of cla}^ beaten 
hard. 

The door was quite near to one end, and beside 
the door a window, with four squares of glass. 
There were two windows on the back side, without 
glass, and were closed by being filled up with 
turfs. The door was made of wicker-work woven 
close, and hung with wooden hinges. There was 
no chimney, the smoke escaping through a hole 
left in the roof. 

Let us now view the interior arrangements. The 
cot consisted of two rooms — a kitchen, into which 
the door opened, and an inner room, designated as 
a butt and a ben. In the middle of this kitchen 
was a fireplace of rough stones, built directly 
beneath a beam, from which hung an iron hook 
to hold the meikle pot. The baking and roasting 
being done in the ashes of the hearth, or on flat 
stones and boards set up before the fire, even this 
was an improvement, as, in a majority of the cots, 
the fire was made on the clay floor, and then at 
night the ashes were swept up, and the bed, 
in cold weather, spread on the hearth for the sake 
of warmth. 

A glance at the interior will show why the 


THE HIGHLAND HOME. 


25 


main entrance, instead of being, as usual, in the 
centre of the building, was at one end, and the 
window near it. The other end was reserved 
for the cattle, who were sheltered in winter 
under the same roof with the family, only sep- 
arated by a partition ; and the Highland cotter 
could lie in bed and hear his cattle eat. 

The sleeping-places, arranged around the walls, 
were made of rough boards and wicker, and the 
beds were heather, placed endwise, with a blanket 
spread over it, than which there is no easier couch, 
and, when in bloom, fragrant. The spoons were 
of wood, platters of pewter, bowls and drinking 
vessels of wood and horn. Wicker chairs, stools, 
and stones served for seats. 

The inner room, or ben, contained the good wife’s 
loom, wheels, and other instruments for making 
cloth ; but at the other end of the room the eye 
was greeted with quite a different spectacle, the 
entire wall being completely covered with arms 
of various kinds, that were no holiday weapons, 
but had done service in many a bloody fray, and 
were of more value than the cot and all else it 
contained. 

Suspended from roots of juniper, and the horns 
of deer driven into the walls, were basket-hilted 
broadswords, pistols with iron stocks, — no despi- 
cable weapon, even after being discharged, in a 
hand-to-hand conflict ; Lochaber battle-axes, dirks, 
targets of wood covered with leather, having a 


26 


A STOUT HEART. 


steel pike a foot in length in the centre, with 
which Highlanders parry the thrust of a bayonet 
or spear ; Spanish guns ; bows and arrows, and 
belts, together with pouch, in which, when on a 
march, the Highlander carries flint, steel, and 
tinder ; in short, all the arms that had been 
handed down from father to son in the family 
for many a year, suggestive of the old days 
of reaving and bloodshed, and in which Angus 
Macgregor had borne his part from eighteen to 
forty and upwards. 

The good wife, — Alice Macgregor, — a strong, 
healthy-looking woman, with regular features, bear- 
ing the impress of exposure to sun and wind, but 
with a most pleasant expression of countenance, 
was busied in preparing the meal for her husband 
and family. She was many years younger than 
her good man, whom she greeted with a warmth 
inspired by that domestic affection which is a dis- 
tinguishing trait among the Scotch Highlanders. 

Pm blythe to see ye, gude man. Ye hae been 
a weary while awa’. I had weel nigh gi’en ye up. 
Your father’s been sair cast down, and the bairns 
runnin’ to the loch, and neither to hand or bind.” 

The dinner was abundant and well suited to the 
tastes and appetites of Highlanders, — who are 
prone to despise the pleasures of the table, — 
consisting of the fish baked and stuffed, with 
onions, potatoes, and dumplings of barley-meal, 
butter, bread made of oat-meal, barley, and peas. 


THE HIGHLAND HOME. 


27 


ewe^s-railk cheese, milk in abundance, and home- 
distilled whiskey. 

Their diet was not limited to the articles enu- 
merated, although they did not eat much meat. 
Salmon they had now and then, game from the 
hills, venison, muir-fowl, sea-fowl from the loch, 
a fat hen occasionally, eggs, and mutton. But the 
principal living was oat-meal, kail (cabbage), bar- 
ley and pea-meal, with a very little wheaten bread, 
as the little money they obtained was procured by 
the sale of fish, meat, eggs, and wool. 

They also obtained honey of an excellent qual- 
ity, as the bees fed on the heather when in bloom ; 
and, by dint of industry, lived well, while there 
was great destitution among a large portion of 
their countrymen. 


28 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER III. 


CLANSHIP. 


HILE the family are partaking of their sim- 



T T pie fare, we will briefly communicate to 
our young readers, whom we have so unceremoni- 
ously transported to a foreign land, and set down 
upon the side of a Highland brae, some general in- 
formation in respect to the locality, and to those 
who inhabit it. 

The northern portion of Scotland, called the High- 
lands, was originally a world by itself, consisting 
for the most part of rugged mountains, composed 
largely of rocks, their summits denuded of wood, 
and their flanks covered with grass and heather. 
The mountains lie in chains, with valleys between, 
called passes. In some of these defiles a few reso- 
lute men might resist an army, and even destroy 
their adversaries by rolling down rocks upon them. 

From the summit of these mountains torrents 
rushed foaming into the valleys, forming large lakes 
— lochs, as they are termed. The drip of the hills 
also forms bogs that would be impassable to any 
but Highlanders, who spring from hassock to has- 


CLANSHIP. 


29 


sock, and, by experience, know where to place their 
foot. 

In the sheltered valleys are many fertile spots, 
that afford pasturage for sheep and a small kind 
of cattle called kyloes. There are many beautiful 
lakes scattered among the hills, and considerable 
land that might be ploughed, and is fertile, but 
of small extent in proportion to the breadth of 
country. 

The bogs generate mist ; the high mountains 
also retain the snow on their summits and northern 
aspects till very late into the summer, and shut out 
the sun from the vales. This renders the summers 
short, causes early and late frosts, so that the only 
crops which can be raised are barley, oats, turnips, 
and potatoes, and, in some exposures, wheat. The 
principal fuel is peat and the roots and trunks of 
trees that are found in the bogs. 

Perhaps you are ready to inquire, — 

Were there many of them ? and, if so, how did 
they live ? 

There were a great many of them, divided into 
tribes or clans, and they lived by hunting, a very 
little labor on the soil, sowing a few oats or a little 
barley, fishing in the lochs and creeks, the milk 
and flesh of their herds and flocks that found pas- 
turage in the mountains ; but principally by the 
edge of the claymore, and plundering the Lowlands 
of Scotland, and even England. In these forays 
they drove the cattle from the Lowland pastures 


30 


A STOUT HEART. 


into the mountains, where they could not be fol- 
lowed, possessed themselves of grain and other 
provisions, and, when resisted, hesitated not to 
take the lives of the owners. 

They held a tradition that the Lowlands once 
belonged to their ancestors, who had been unjustly 
driven out by the progenitors of the present occu- 
pants, considered it lawful and honorable thus to 
take revenge, declaring that, as their forefathers 
had been unjustly compelled to take up their abode 
in those barren mountains, the Sassenach, as they 
termed the Lowlanders, might sow, and they would 
reap, might plant, and they would gather the har- 
vest, might feed the flock, and they would wear 
the fleece. 

They were still farther separated from their 
Lowland neighbors by their language, which was 
Gaelic, and by their religion, which, for the most 
part, was Catholic. They despised labor and every 
sort of mechanical employment except the forging 
of arms and manufacture of material for war, con- 
sidering the only honorable employments hunting 
and warfare, and, from youth to old age, went al- 
ways armed. 

They, to be sure, practised some simple trades. 
They had smiths, whom they esteemed highly, be- 
cause they forged arms and necessary tools. They 
would also weave, tan leather, and make rude 
cooper ware, and sow a little grain, and take care 
of flocks. But this was only because it rendered 


CLANSHIP. 


31 


them independent, and enabled them to exist when 
unable to plunder the Lowlands. 

They had no mills or machinery of any kind, but 
ground their grain in hand-mills, called querns, 
similar to those used in old Scripture times. 

Living in this half-savage state, their wants were 
few ; they were almost insensible to cold or fatigue^ 
were patient of hunger, considered it unmanly 
to be the slave of appetite, and were contented 
with the simplest fare ; and, though eating very 
little, there were no men in the world could endure 
fatigue and exposure like the ancient Highlanders. 

When a Highlander was hungry, he drew his belt 
the tighter, and said nothing about it.^^ 

The Highland dress is not only striking and 
beautiful when worn by an athletic man, but per- 
fectly adapted to the purposes of war, also for scal- 
ing mountains, long marches over rough ground, 
and exposure to the weather, being both light and 
warm, neither hampering the limbs, nor in the least 
interfering with their free action. The knee being 
bare gives freedom to this most important joint, 
and strengthens it. 

The arms of the Highlanders are the broad- 
svvord, or claymore, double-edged and heavy, a car- 
bine, dagger, pistol, and target. Their mode of at- 
tack is to form in columns three abreast, rush upon 
the enemy, fire their carbines in their very faces, 
and fiinging down their guns, cut down their 
foes with the broadsword, turning aside spear or 


32 


A STOUT HEART. 


bayonet witli the target. It is doubtful whether 
any troops could long withstand the charge of a 
Highland regiment led by a chief ; and it is the 
opinion of military men, that no troops in Europe 
can look on the bayonet like the Highlanders. 

It was their custom, before making the charge, 
to offer a short prayer, pull their bonnets over their 
brows, and then rush with the utmost speed to the 
conflict. The plaid was, in general, worn belted 
around the waist in such a manner as to leave the 
arms at liberty ; but sometimes they flung it off, 
and charged, covered only by the kilt and their 
shirts, or even naked to the waist. 

The fearful execution performed by the High- 
landers with the claymore is a matter of history. 
At the battle of Culloden, a Highlander, being 
wounded, was singled out and attacked by a party 
of dragoons. He set his back against a wall, and, 
with broadsword and target, faced his foes. Poor 
Macbane was cut to pieces, though not till thirteen 
of his enemies lay dead around him.’^ 

An historian of the period, speaking of the 
charge of the Highlanders at the battle of Cullo- 
den, says, — 

“ It was a moment of dreadful and agonizing sus- 
pense, but only a moment ; for the whirlwind does 
not reap the forest with greater rapidity than the 
Highlanders cleared the line. They swept through 
and over that frail barrier almost as easily and in- 
stantaneously as the bounding calvacade brushes 


CLANSHIP. 


33 


through the morning labors of the gossamer which 
stretch across its path. Not, however, with the 
same unconsciousness of the event. Almost every 
man in their front rank — chief and gentleman — 
fell before the deadly weapons which they had 
braved ; and, although the enemy gave way, it was 
not till every bayonet was bent and bloody with 
the strife.’’ 

The Highlanders were divided into clans, under 
the command of a chief, representing some remote 
ancestor, from whom it was supposed the whole 
tribe descended. Thus the chief of the Macdonalds 
is the son of Donald, and all the members of that 
clan are descended from him, and brethren. 

Acting upon this principle, each member of a 
clan gave to its chief all the devotion of children 
to a father ; and every member of a clan was at 
any moment ready to sacrifice his life for his chief. 
In his hands was the power of life and death. He 
was both judge and jury, and from his decision 
there was no appeal. 

In the Highlands, therefore, rank and gentle 
blood depended upon relationship to the head of 
the clan, and not upon wealth or occupation ; and 
poverty invaded not the privilege of blood. All 
sat together at table according to their different 
rank ; and the chief was as courteous to the poor- 
est man in the clan as to those more wealthy. 
Thus a Highlander, whether he drove cattle to 
market or made his own shoes, was a gentleman, 
3 


34 


A STOUT HEART. 


and so estimated by both equals and superiors. 
He was proud, though respectful ; and it has been 
noticed that a clansman would conduct himself 
properly and without embarrassment in the com- 
pany of those far above him in rank and education. 

A single fact will best illustrate the power of 
the Highland chiefs within their own territories, 
and their independence in respect to the occupant 
of the throne. 

It is related that Prince George of Denmark, the 
husband of Queen Anne, understanding that timber 
for the royal navy could be procured in a distant 
portion of the Highlands, sent two surveyors to 
ascertain the truth of the report. At Edinburgh 
they procured a letter of introduction to a great 
chieftain in a remote part of the Highlands to for- 
ward their commission. Upon their arrival at his 
house, they announced their object and produced 
the warrant and instructions from His Royal High- 
ness. After deliberately perusing them, the chief- 
tain observed that he knew nothing of such a 
person. The surveyors informed him that he was 
the husband of Queen Anne ; upon which he re- 
plied, — 

I also know nothing of her. But there came 
hither, some time ago, such as you, from Ireland, 
as spies upon the country ; and we hear they have 
made their jests upon us amongst the Irish. Now, 
you shall have one hour to give a better account 
of yourselves than you have yet given, and, if you 


CLANSHIP. 


35 


fail, I will have you hanged upon that tree,^' point- 
ing to one adjoining. 

In this dilemma the chieftain left them, without 
having seen the letter of introduction from their 
friend at Edinburgh, which the surveyors thought 
would not be noticed after the treatment which 
the royal mandate had experienced. 

When the hour had nearly expired, they, as a 
last resort, presented the letter of introduction 
to the haughty laird, who, after perusing it, ob- 
served, — 

a Why did you not give me this at first ? If you 
had not produced it, I would have hanged you both 
immediately.'^ 

' Upon which he courteously led them into his 
house, gave them refreshment, and granted them 
permission to make a survey of his woods the next 
morning. 

There were no courts of justice; all disputes 
were settled by the edge of the claymore. Another 
characteristic of the Highlanders, and the source 
of ceaseless bloodshed and contention, was the 
practice of bloody feud. If a member of a clan was 
slain by one of another clan, then the relatives of 
the slain, or all the members of his clan, were in 
honor bound to avenge his death. But it did not 
stop with the death of the immediate parties, since 
the clansmen of the man upon whom revenge had 
been taken were, in their turn, bound to revenge 
his blood upon members of the other clan. Thus 


36 


A STOUT HEART. 


the different clans all through the Highlands were, 
more or less of them, in a state of constant and im- 
placable warfare ; and, as they were always armed, 
and accustomed from youth to the use of weapons, 
proud, passionate, and resolute, quarrels were con- 
stantly arising. 

A young chief growing up was expected to give 
public proof of his valor and fitness one day to fill 
the position to which his birth entitled him, by as- 
sembling some of the young men of his own age, 
and making a foray upon some neighboring clan, 
with whom his people were at feud, and bring off 
cattle by force, or die in the attempt ; after which 
he was considered as having established his repu- 
tation for valor and capacity of command. This 
was another source of endless feuds. 

The bagpipe furnished the martial music of the 
Highlanders, and its notes excited them to the 
highest pitch of enthusiasm. 

It is evident that in such a state of society learn- 
ing and the pursuits of the scholar must have been 
held in very low estimation ; indeed, the moderate 
share of learning to be found among the clans was 
confined to the chieftains and the bards. The lat- 
ter preserved all the traditions of the tribe and the 
genealogies of their great men, composed and re- 
cited or sang upon public occasions songs and 
poems, in which were celebrated the victories of 
the clan and the achievements of the chieftain. 
They also pronounced eulogies at the death of the 


CLANSHIP. 




chief ; and some of their productions have come 
down to the present time. 

It is singular and worthy of note, that, while 
among the Highlanders theft from a member of the 
clan was considered most disgraceful and worthy of 
punishment, robbing of a Lowlander, or of a hostile 
clan, was considered a worthy action; and even 
when a Highlander was seized in the act and exe- 
cuted by the Lowland authorities, death in that 
manner was considered no stain upon his reputa- 
tion, but honorable. 

It is related that a Highland woman was asked 
how many husbands she had had, and replied. 
Three.’’ Being then asked if they had been kind 
to her, she said the two first were honest men, and 
very careful of their families, for they both died for 
the law, and were hanged for theft ; but as for the 
last, she said, He was a filthy peast. He died at 
hame, like an auld dog, on a puckle o’ straw.” 


38 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER IV. 

ANGUS MACGREGOR. 

J USTICE requires us now to state that pride 
of character and the consciousness that they 
were gentlemen of a noble race, whom it behooved 
to support the character of their ancestors, re- 
strained the Highlanders from all low vices. While 
they considered it honorable to commit robbery 
upon the lauds of their Lowland neighbors, and 
those clans with whom they were at feud, they 
were, among themselves, scrupulously honest and 
truthful. 

They also treated the female sex with the great- 
est deference. They were faithful husbands, kind 
and most affectionate parents, despised luxury and 
effeminacy, went to battle as to a feast, and es- 
teemed it the highest honor to die sword in hand. 
Although ferocious in conflict, they were not nat- 
urally cruel nor bloodthirsty. On the other hand, 
their sympathies were quick, and they were ready 
to relieve those in distress, and share their last 
morsel with the destitute. They were dutiful to 
parents, paid the utmost respect to old age, and 


ANGUS MACGREGOR. 


39 


were capable of the firmest friendships ; and neither 
peril nor the prospect of death itself would cause 
them to desert a friend or break their plighted 
word. 

Their hospitality was unbounded, from the chief- 
tain to the poorest member of his clan. Whatever 
they had they .were ready to share with the stran- 
ger ; and the person of a guest was sacred. Charles 
Stuart, the Pretender, wandered for. months a fugi- 
tive in the Highlands, after the battle of Culloden j 
and, though his hiding-places were known to scores 
of people, and a reward of thirty thousand pounds 
was offered for his head, no one would betray him, 
and that, too, at a period when many of them were 
in a fftate of semi-starvation. 

In the course of his rambles, as stated by Sir 
Walter Scott, ‘^a poor cottager, of the name of 
M’Jan, who was, upon principle, hostile to Charles, 
and who, on account of a severe season, was, with 
his family, in a state of starvation, received the 
wretched wanderer, and, at the hazard of his life, 
committed depredations to procure him sustenance, 
when an immense reward lay within his reach, and 
with powerful temptation invited him to surrender 
up his guest.’^ 

Sir Walter also relates a singular instance of the 
respect paid by the ancient Highlanders to the 
rights of hospitality, and their regard for their 
word. It seems that a son of the Highland chief- 
tain Gregor Macgregor had gone with some young 


40 


A STOUT HEART. 


companions on a hunting excursion. At an inn 
they met with a young gentleman from Cowal, by 
the name of Lamont, and partook of refreshment to- 
gether. A dispute arising, Lament stabbed Mac- 
gregor with his dirk, and killed him. He made his 
escape, and, under cover of night, evaded his pur- 
suers. The first habitation that met his eye at 
break of day was that of Gregor Macgregor. The 
chieftain was then up and standing at his gate. 

Save my life ! ’ exclaimed the fugitive, ‘ for men 
are in pursuit of me to take it away.^ ‘ Who- 
ever you are,' replied Macgregor, ^ here you are 
safe.' In a short time his pursuers came up, and 
inquired if a stranger had entered. ^ He has,' said 
Macgregor ; ‘ and what is your business with him ? ' 
^ In a scuffle,' replied they, ^ he has killed your son. 
Deliver him up, that we may avenge the dead.' 
On this information, Macgregor's lady and his two 
daughters filled the house with cries and lamenta- 
tions. ‘ Be quiet,' said the chief (though his own 
eyes manifested his extreme sorrow), ^ and let no 
man presume to touch the youth, for he has Mac- 
gregor’s word and honor for his safety ; and, as 
God lives, he shall be secure and safe whilst he re- 
mains in my house.' Then, treating the unhappy 
youth with the utmost kindness and hospitality, 
Macgregor carried him, under his own personal 
protection, to Inverary, accompanied by twelve 
men armed. Having landed him in safety on the 
other side of Lochfine, he took him by the hand. 


ANGUS MACGREGOR. 


41 


and parted with this address : ‘ Lament, now you 
are safe. No longer can I or will I protect you. 
Keep out of the way of my clan. May God for- 
give and bless you.’ ” 

This is the substance of the narration, that we 
have somewhat abridged. 

From this brief and imperfect sketch, all that 
our limits permit, the young reader may, neverthe- 
less, obtain some general idea of the Highlands 
and the people who inhabited them in the days of 
old — their occupations, characteristics, and modes 
of life. In all these respects a vast change had 
taken place at the time when Jamie Macgregor 
and his sisters, on the brae point, were doing all 
they could to guide their father through the mists 
of Lochfine. 

But in the circle gathered around the turf fire 
in that Highland cot was represented the ancient 
past of clan life and thought, a transition period, 
and also one in which the influences of education, 
religion, and law had begun to produce their usual 
effects upon the minds of a rude, though noble 
race, gifted by nature with all the qualities that 
lie at the foundation of sterling character. 

Our object in thus referring to and grouping 
successive periods, and estimating the influence 
of circumstances upon character, as represented in 
the persons of the grandfather, the parents, and 
others hereafter to be mentioned, is to place before 
our readers the singular, and, in many respects, 


42 


A STOUT HEART. 


conflicting forces operating upon the mind of this 
Highland laddie at a time when these subtle influ- 
ences, which, all unnoticed, are shaping the pro- 
portions, both mental and physical, of the future 
man, are beginning to make themselves felt. 

At this important period in the formation of 
character, the boy was very much under the influ- 
ence of his grandfather, the salutary and evil 
results of which were so nearly balanced as to 
render it by no means easy to decide which pre- 
ponderated. 

A character so marked as that of Angus Mac- 
gregor demands more than a passing notice, both 
in itself considered and in respect to others. 

He was born at a period when the Highlands 
had not been made accessible by military roads, or 
the glens threatened by canals, and loch and brae, 
ravine and mountain summit, displayed all the 
grandeur of savage nature, when the power of the 
chieftain was absolute in his clan, and the High- 
land character had lost nothing of its original har- 
dihood. Though during his boyhood important 
changes were inaugurated, he was in the prime of 
life before the clans were made amenable to the 
civil law, as other portions of the realm; and it 
was not till he had passed middle life that the 
severe measures adopted by the government, and 
those provisions made for the diffusion of learn- 
ing and religion, began to exert any practical 
influence upon the habits of the population. 


ANGUS MACGREGOR. 


43 


The father of Angus (a grim old chief, born and 
bred amid all the privations and conflicts that 
marked the history of his race, and who had borne 
arms for the first time in the bloody fight of Killi- 
crankie, when the Highlanders under Dundee 
“ cleft heads down to the breast, cut steel head- 
. pieces asunder like nightcaps, and slashed through 
pikes like willows, driving William’s army into the 
river) was a Macgregor of the old stamp. 

Upon his return from the battle of Sherifmuir, 
where, fighting in the ranks of the Macleans, he 
had shared in that headlong charge that carried 
William’s command before them with great slaugh- 
ter, his lady presented him with a son. 

From time immemorial the Macgregors had 
borne the reputation of being the most warlike of 
the clans, and, in later years, the unenviable one 
of the most ferocious. It was the settled policy 
of the government to weaken the power of the 
Highland clans as a body by exciting differences 
among them, and thus turning their mutual feuds 
and jealousies to its own account. 

This clan claimed a royal descent from Kenneth 
Macalpine, who reigned over the Piets and Scots, 
and were exceedingly proud of their origin. Hav- 
ing excited the enmity of Bruce, they were de- 
prived by him of a large portion of their lands, 
which lay in a part of the Highlands contiguous 
to the low country, and therefore accessible. 

The period had now arrived when the chieftains 


44 


A STOUT HEART. 


of the clans occupying that portion of the High- 
lands found it for their interest to profess allegi- 
ance to the throne. This the Macgregors, exas- 
perated by the injuries they had received, refused 
to do ; and while the surrounding chieftains has- 
tened to obtain from the king written charters of 
their lands, this haughty clan resolved to hold their 
possessions by the edge of the daymore. 

The result of this imprudent conduct was, that 
they were immediately exposed to the encroach- 
ments of the powerful neighbors by whom they 
were surrounded ; and finally their possessions 
were assigned by the government to the Camp- 
bells and other clans, leaving them without legal 
right to any land whatever. 

But it was one thing to assign their lands, on 
jparchmentj to this or that clan, — leaving those 
upon whom this authority was conferred to dis- 
possess or subdue these refractory tenants, — and 
quite another to accomplish it. Although the gov- 
ernment issued an edict of fire and sword against 
them for the space of three years, and intrusted 
the execution of it to four powerful earls, three 
lords, and two other gentlemen, the Macgregors 
proved too hard for their enemies, and for more 
than forty years maintained themselves by dint of 
sheer pluck and endurance, aided by the rugged 
nature of the country they occupied. 

Rendered ferocious by oppression, and looking 
forward to nothing else except death in battle, and 


ANGUS MACGREGOR. 


45 


to be hunted like wild beasts, they took fearful ven- 
geance whenever opportunity offered. At length, 
when they were diminished by constant warfare 
and suffering, the government resorted to most ex- 
treme and unheard-of measures. The privy coun- 
cil passed an act abolishing the name of Macgregor. 
They were commanded instantly to exchange it 
for some other on pain of death. All who belonged 
to the clan were prohibited, on pain of death, from 
wearing “ ony kind of armor except ane pointless 
knife to cut their meat.’’ And, after many bloody 
battles, their principal chiefs were seized, and the 
clan crushed for a time. The reason given for 
taking away their name was, that the bare and 
simple name of Macgregor made this hail clan to 
presume on their power, strength, and force.” 

They then dispersed among different clans, as- 
suming the name of the clans among whom they 
found refuge. Their spirit it was impossible to 
subdue ; and whenever the government relaxed its 
vigilance, or in the event of civil war, they were 
found banded together and in arms ; for, however 
widely separated, they ever maintained secret com- 
munications, and kept up the spirit of the clan. It 
is on account of this proscription of the name of 
Macgregor that we find the father of Angus fight- 
ing in the ranks of the Macleans, with whom he 
had taken refuge. 

Alarmed by the insurrection, the government 
resolved in some way to render the rebellious 


46 


A STOUT HEART. 


portions of the Highland clans less capable of 
mischief, — for, as usual, they were divided in sen- 
timent, some being for the government, others 
opposed to it. To effect this purpose, the clans 
were ordered to deliver up their arms. They com- 
plied with great cheerfulness, especially the loyal 
clans, whom the government paid for the arms they 
resigned ; while the Highlanders, on their part, 
concealed their most effective weapons, bought 
others and hid them in caves, imported second-rate 
arms from Holland and delivered them to the gov- 
ernment, and were as well armed as ever ; and, 
though they were careful not to wear them openly, 
in the defiles and fastnesses of the mountains both 
the loyal and disloyal clans trained the entire rising 
generation to the use of the broadsword and mus- 
ket ; and General Wade, to whom the execution of 
the matter was intrusted, told his sovereign “ that 
the once formidable Highlander was now a simple 
peasant with his staff in his hand.’’ 

Thus did the fierce Macgregor train the young 
Angus, as the lioness her whelps, store his mind 
with the old renown and the wrongs of his race, 
and inculcate the duty of revenge. The forts 
built and the roads constructed by Wade through 
the passes of the Highlands were a more effectual 
means of curbing the clans. Still no change was 
made in the habits of the people ; and Angus Mac- 
gregor, when, in the prime of manhood, he fought 
on the bloody field of Culloden, represented the 


ANGUS MACGREGOR, 


47 


sentiments and desperate valor of the wild Mac- 
gregors as fully as had his father before him, at 
the same time strangely mixed with many kindly 
qualities and noble sentiments. 

Allan Macgregor, however, grew up under very 
different circumstances. The British government, 
astounded to find that the Highlanders, who for 
thirty years had, as they supposed, been deprived 
of arms, and, as they flattered themselves, had lost 
the habit of using them, had, all this period, been 
silently, and almost in sight of their garrisons, 
training a whole generation for war, adopted meas- 
ures that effectually broke the power of the clans, 
not only disarming the Highlanders, but abolishing 
the old feudal custom of holding land on condition 
of rendering military service. By this custom the 
chiefs could oblige their dependants to take the 
field or forfeit their lands ; but, this being done 
away, the power of the chieftains to compel mil- 
itary service was at an end. The Highlanders were 
also forbidden to wear their national garb, and 
compelled to adopt the Lowland dress, except sol- 
diers in the army of the king. 

All this took place when Allan Macgregor was 
about ten years of age. Angus Macgregor would 
as soon have surrendered his life as his arms. 


48 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE VENGEANCE OF THE GAEL. 

S CARCELY had the retreating Highlanders 
gained the shelter of their native hills, when 
the forts were strongly garrisoned, and the passes 
and glens swarmed with soldiers occupied in enfor- 
cing the disarming act, and on the trail of the chief- 
tains who had escaped the slaughter of Culloden. 

Concealing the weapons not required for per- 
sonal defence, and arming the boy with dirk and 
pistol, Angus, now a sullen and desperate man, 
betook himself, together with his son, to the soli- 
tudes of mountains and glens. His wife was dead, 
two nephews adopted by him had perished at Cul- 
loden, and Allan, thus early exposed to hardship 
and peril, constituted his sole family. 

The forces that, after the battle of Culloden, had 
butchered in cold blood the wounded Highlanders 
on the field, set on fire a barn into which many of 
the poor fellows had crawled, and driven back into 
the fiames with fixed bayonets those who attempted 
to escape, were now sent by the Duke of Cumber- 
land from Fort Augustus, near which he held his 


THE VENGEANCE OF THE GAEL. 


49 


headquarters, into the various glens inhabited by 
the Macleans, Mclntoshes, Frasers, Stewarts, and 
other disloyal clans, to lay waste the country and 
take revenge. 

It has been before remarked that the Highland- 
ers are not a cruel people, and, though fierce in 
battle, by no means disposed to unnecessary blood- 
shed. In their recent march through the Lowlands 
and into the heart of England, they had manifested 
no ferocity, or the least desire to slay those who 
made no resistance. 

These troops, however, devastated the country in 
all directions with fire and sword ; unarmed men 
were shot in cold blood, and women and children, 
after witnessing the slaughter of their husbands and 
parents, and the destruction of their homes, provis- 
ions, and clothing, were turned out naked to starve 
on the hill-sides. It is related that “ a whole family 
were enclosed in a barn and consumed to ashes.^^ 
So alert were these ministers of vengeance, that in 
a few days, according to the testimony of avolunteer 
who served in the expedition, neither house, cottage, 
man, nor beast was to be seen within the compass 
of fifty miles. All was ruin, silence, and desolation. 

As the plunder was very great in amount, — two 
thousand cattle being sometimes collected in one 
drove, which w’ere sold to butchers who resorted 
to the camp to purchase, and the money was 
divided among the soldiers, — they were constant* 
ly on the alert to slay and plunder. 

4 


50 


A STOUT HEART. 


Angus and his son, while these barbarities were 
in progress, obtained a precarious support among 
the hills, now and then obtaining a fish from the 
stream, or a bird among the heather, and occasion- 
ally finding a sheep or goat that had escaped the 
search of the soldiers. At night they retired to 
the most inaccessible portions of the hills and glens, 
and slept couched among the heather. There w’ere 
many caves in these mountain fastnesses, where 
they might have concealed themselves ; but the 
father preferred the heath and shelter of the thick- 
ets, as, in case of his retreat being discovered, 
there would, in most cases, be an opportunity of 
escape. It was also summer time. 

Thus week after week passed away, Angus 
watching the motions of the soldiers and seeking 
opportunity to repay in kind the miseries they 
were inflicting upon unarmed men, aged persons, 
women, and children. At night they lay on the 
bare cliff, among the bracken, or in the thickets, 
the boy wrapped in his father’s plaid. 

They were often reduced to great straits for 
food, and nearly starved, the father enduring the 
extremity of hunger himself to feed the famish^ 
ing boy. 

The invaders spared no effort to ferret out and 
seize the cattle which the Highlanders had driven 
into the glens and remote places of the hills. As 
horses were nearly useless among the bogs, hills, 
and broken ground, this description of plunder fell 


THE VENGEANCE OP THE GAEL. 


51 


mostly to the share of the infantry, as troopers, 
even if dismounted, with their heavy boots, and un- 
accustomed to walking, could make but little prog- 
ress in the passes and among woods and rocks. 
This involuntary abstinence, however, served only 
to whet their appetite when by any chance an op- 
portunity presented itself. 

One afternoon, as the fugitives were returning, 
supperless, to a mountain on which they had passed 
the three preceding nights, they espied, in a grassy 
hollow, a stot (steer) with a broken leg and a 
sword-cut across the shoulder, that, unable to keep 
up with the herd, had been left behind by the 
enemy in some of their expeditions for forage and 
plunder. Overjoyed at this unexpected good for- 
tune, the stot was slain, and the half-famished man, 
removing a portion of skin from the thigh, cut out 
a steak with his dirk, and cooked it on the spot. 
The remaining portion of the day was occupied in 
dressing the animal and removing the flesh (sliced 
from the bones that it might be longer, preserved 
from putrefaction) to a cool cavern in the moun- 
tains, preparatory to smoking and drying in the 
sun. 

This labor accomplished, and having enjoyed the 
luxury of a full meal, the wanderers, worn with the 
abortive efibrts they had made during the several 
previous days to obtain game, sank to rest, nor 
awoke on the succeeding morning till the sun had 
clambered high in the heavens. 


52 


A STOUT HEART. 


Refreshed by a night's repose and a hearty 
breakfast leisurely partaken of, and in the posses- 
sion of provision for several days’ consumption, the 
iron sinews of Angus resumed their wonted power. 

The boy now complained of thirst, and the 
father resolved to go in quest of water. Allan 
being unable to follow his parent in pursuit of 
game, the latter often concealed him in caverns 
and thickets during his absence. Signals were 
arranged between them by which they might com- 
municate and give notice to each other of appre- 
hended danger. And many a mile the stalwart 
sire carried the lad — who disliked to be left be- 
hind — on his shoulder through the hills. 

As he was about to set out, the boy begged to 
accompany him. Angus at first refused permis- 
sion, as it was in the glens that soldiers were most 
likely to be encountered ; but he finally consented. 
As they approached the vicinity of the water, the 
watchful Highlander noticed quite a number of 
peasweeps (lapwings) flying around a particular 
spot and screaming. He instantly concealed the 
boy in the fern, and proceeded to ascertain the 
cause of their outcries. 

Through a chasm between two perpendicular 
cliffs, a torrent, foaming over rocky declivities, 
poured its waters across a wide glen, escaping 
through a cleft in the opposite side. These preci- 
pices were the commencement of a mountain chain. 
Huge fragments that harl fiillen from the cliffs 


THE VENGEANCE OF THE GAEL. 


63 


strewed the banks of the ravine, and were clothed, 
for the most part, with a dense fringe of willows 
and dwarf birch, that, nourished by the spray of 
the waterfall, thrust their roots into the scanty soil 
held in the crevices of the rocks. One large, ob- 
long fragment, covered only with moss, formed, 
with a few loose stones, the termination of the rocky 
ridge, from which point the land gradually sloped 
to a broad glen, the surface of which was broken 
with hassocks, and somewhat boggy, while the 
banks were clothed with short, sweet grass. 

Three of the English horse, out foraging, stum- 
bling upon the mouth of this pass, entered it with 
the expectation of finding cattle ; but the ground 
at length becoming rough and soft, they dismount- 
ed, and proceeded on foot, till their farther prog- 
ress was arrested by the torrent. Disappointed, 
overcome with heat, the close air of the ravine, 
and the fatigue of walking, to which they were un- 
accustomed, the weary troopers, leaning their car- 
bines against a low birch that stood on the bank 
of the stream, fiung themselves on the grass be- 
neath it. 

So very low hung the limbs of the birch, that, 
as Macgregor looked through the foliage into the 
glen, he was unable to distinguish the persons of 
the soldiers, although he could see the butts of 
their muskets and count them ; and, refiecting that 
the glen, with a few breaks, was bordered by rocks 
and thickets, he resolved the Sassenachs should 


54 


A STOUT HEART. 


never leave it alive. He instantly called the boy 
to his side by imitating the note of a winchat, and 
placing him in a hollow of the rock secure from 
shot, said, — 

“ Allan, there are three Sassenach redcoats in 
the glen. Bide still a wee bit, while I shoot or 
claymore the ill-faured loons.’’ 

“ Winna the redcoats kill you, father? and what 
is Allan gaun to do alane in the hills ? ” 

I’ll nae gie them a chance. Sae be a gude 
bairn, and bide ye snug v/here the saugh tree roots 
fa’ owre the rocks till I ca’ ye.” 

Having thus spoken, he lay with his finger on the 
trigger, watching the movements of the troopers. 

Chance soon brought matters to a crisis. A 
flock of wood ducks lighting in a little pool at the 
bottom of the waterfall, one of the soldiers, anxious 
to obtain a shot, instantly crawled out from the 
shelter of the tree, dragging his gun behind him. 
The Gael set his teeth together till the blood 
sprang from his lip, as he recognized the well-known 
uniform of Kingston’s cavalry, the files of which he 
had seen flee like sheep before the claymore at 
Falkirk and Preston, who stabbed the wounded 
Highlanders on the field of Culloden, and sprinkled 
one another with the gore. 

His blood boiled as he beheld one of the very 
troop who, in the war of devastation then raging 
in the glens and passes of the Highlands, had even 
exceeded their orders, in destroying the crops, 


THE VENGEANCE OF THE GAEL. 


55 


burning the dwellings, driving off the cattle of the 
Highlanders, leaving aged people and children to 
die of hunger, and in some instances butchering 
them in cold blood. 

The soldier fired at the game and missed ; but, 
as he rose up, a bullet better aimed pierced his 
vitals, and he fell, mortally wounded, full length 
upon the grass. His comrades, seizing their arms, 
rushed from beneath the tree, entirely unnerved 
by this unlooked-for blow, and ignorant both of the 
number and position of their foes, stood looking 
wildly around. At length, perceiving the smoke 
that arose from the discharge of Macgregor’s piece, 
they commenced walking backwards, with their 
weapons pointed to the spot of the supposed am- 
bush. 

Their assailant now kicked ofi* his brogues, laid 
aside his upper garments, retaining only the kilt 
and hose, and reloaded his gun. Flinging himself 
on the earth, he crept through the bushes between 
the scattered rocks till he gained the shelter of 
the large, moss-grown fragment already referred 
to, and, placing his bonnet upon the muzzle of his 
gun, raised it a very little above the rock. Not 
many moments elapsed before the attention of the 
soldiers was drawn to this object, and their car- 
bines made a common report, one bullet striking 
the rock, and the other passing within a few inches 
of the bonnet. 

A wild, exultant yell mingled with the sharp 


56 


A STOUT HEART. 


reports of the guns, as Angus Macgregor rushed 
down the declivity, the claymore flashing in fiery 
circles around his head, and the ferocity of his race 
gleaming from every feature. The soldiers gazed 
with fear upon that giant form, the proportions of 
which were magnified by surprise and the advan- 
tage of position. There was no time to reload, 
and, unsheathing their sabres, they awaited the 
onset with the courage that cowards gather from 
despair, taking positions apart, in order that while 
one occupied his attention in front, the other might 
assail him at a disadvantage in the rear. 

But who and what were they, in their heavy 
boots, cumbrous uniform, and shorter weapons, in 
the path of the vengeful Gael, frantic with rage, 
and stripped to the conflict? Bred to the clay- 
more from boyhood, he had been taught to despise 
danger and death. His iron sinews, unstiffened 
by grinding toil, trained to endurance, and disci- 
plined by martial exercise, were lithe as those of 
the red deer of his native glens. 

Onward, with long bounds, came the mountain- 
eer ; but, even as he neared the foremost soldier, 
who with uplifted weapon awaited the shock, leap- 
ing aside, he dealt the other, who was momentarily 
off his guard, a back-handed blow beneath the left 
ear. The keen blade, fabricated to slice, chipping 
the jaw-bone, buried itself in the neck, inflicting a 
horrid wound, nearly severing the head from the 
shoulders, the blood spouting in streams from the 


Onward, with long Bounds came the Mountaineer. Page 56. 











T. ^ ^ 


C si 












«fc -I 




i! 


«t. 




\t' 




I 


i- %- 


i 


<U 1^ 


V rSj 


V 


V ^ 


*.♦* 




» • 


K 




Zi* 


'• I 




4 






fe 


•‘ ^ r ^ * ' i . -J 

« v’ 




•5 


« * 




,'H 


:5S 




Xi 




> * 


• " n 




, •Tl 




IV 


t y 


»■ j . 




^Mrtri . ^ , 


.M. % 




^4 I 


I •", 


■•JU. 


« . 4 


" I • 


7> 


f « tr 


r^ 4 st 






I 


4» 






t < 


ftkV' 


V 


.V 




f 


# 




I M>r 


y^. 


*•4 






'j 


Mf-, 




V. 


♦s., > 


/ » 




•- 


• » 


Xc 


.J •- 




M- 


V-jf 


y» 4 r 


* : 


1 


I •. 


’’•. vl". -■ 


» ■ M 






'^). . *4., 


‘■- .: V 


« o.»' 




•r^ 












« •* 




iv' * 




vM 








r»i-*. 


■J 


.* » 


•Lj*-'. 


. - ‘ r“. 

tsrr 


t*. 






» ^ 




?» 














i: > 


• ^ 


V:.te- 


' u y. 


m* ' 


Ui* '■ 


:‘.r 


4« ^ ^ • 


t^';; 






T VV 


' — V ..>?, 








WK 


¥ 


I :, (‘ 




St* 


IJ * 






*> 


> ii 


V,' 






X 




-i.' 


ii; 








iM- ' •_■».. 'J5.-"< 






» ^ 1 

<?r 


<*] 




.* ft . * I ^ ^ **• • *1- * «. 

». •- • * 




L • 

K 






‘ %■ . i-.: 2ii>. •.V-x* •"*4 .* ■; , i,* •• •i- 




r 5'..\ 

'S'Tf 


Ms<] 


M •> 












'iVil 


#. ' 




*• ^ 


sfcy 


^?.*y 




r: 


- 4 . 


:w. 




•'.y* 




^vr*. 


[• ? .< 




>Ajfj 




-ii* 










9^ 




/i« 






"L '*3 






t; 




yrr 




?> 




:»0f 


r# 


-.< ?J»C 






^.-.« 


A* -T* C-Ci 


yiCts: 




W; 






5^- 






» ^ 




iW 




rkJUJl 










THE VENGEANCE OF THE GAEL. 


57 


veins and artery as the trunk tumbled to the 
ground. Vainly the remaining soldier rushed to 
his aid. Parrying his thrust with the target, the 
Macgregor ran him through the body with such 
force that the hilt of the weapon brought up with a 
distinct thud against his breast. It was a conflict 
brief as bloody. But a few moments had elapsed 
since those forms, lying ghastly in the noonday 
sun, were instinct with life and vigor. 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER VI. 


LIVING BY THE CLAYMORE. 

TTERLY unable to remain in his concealment, 



U Allan, all unnoticed, had followed on, and wit- 
nessed the combat ; and, as Angus sheathed his 
sword, he saw the boy striving to pull the trigger 
of a pistol he had levelled at the wounded soldier, 
who, propped upon his elbow, had watched the 
progress of the contest. The father laid his hand 
upon the weapon, saying, as he did so, — 

Dinna meddle wi’ a fallen man, laddie. Leave 
him alane. He’ll nae bide lang ; he’s sair 
wounded.” 

He’s a Sassenach, father. He wanted to kill 
you and all our folks ; and the likes of him killed 
auld Donald Maclean and his wee Duncan, and 
pu’d down his house ; and didna they strive to 
kill you ? ” 

‘‘Ye wadna be like them, chiel, and gie a chaup 
to a deein’ mon. I ken he’s nane too lang time to 
tell owre his misdeeds.” 

Angus Macgregor, however terrible when roused, 
and not a whit behind the most savage of his race 


LIVING BY THE CLAYMORE. 


59 


while under the actual impulse of passion, was 
incapable of cruelty in cold blood, possessed of 
warm affections and quick sympathies, and was the 
very soul of honor and truthfulness. He, indeed, 
manifested no disposition to aid the dying cavalry- 
man, or to alleviate his sufferings. But to abstain 
from insulting, or plunging his dirk into his foe- 
man’s breast, was, for one trained as he had been, 
and who had witnessed the cruelties inflicted upon 
his clansmen and neighbors by the comrades of this 
ruffian, and in which he had, doubtless, participated, 
was an instance of forbearance under provocation, 
showing that nobler qualities than the brutal cour- 
age of the soldier found a genial soil in the bosom 
of this wild warrior of the hills. 

The results of the contest were of the greatest 
value to the victor. Next to food, powder and ball 
were to him articles of the first necessity, both as 
a means of self-defence and to support life by 
shooting game. On the persons of the soldiers he 
found several rounds of ball cartridge, and also 
rations of salted meat and bread, the latter being 
to him a great rarity, as it had been weeks since 
he had tasted it. The meat, also, was of great 
value, and, being salted, could be kept. The arms 
were likewise of importance, not merely as ena- 
bling him to turn his mountain cave into a fortress, 
but to arm his neighbors who had been deprived 
of their weapons by the enemy, or had flung them 
away in their flight from Culloden, as Macgregor 


60 


A STOUT HEART. 


cherished plans in respect to the future which con- 
templated the interests of others as well as of him- 
self and child. 

Leaving Allan at play near the foot of the water- 
fall, he proceeded to the entrance of the glen, 
where, finding the horses left by the troopers, he 
turned two of them loose, after removing the pis- 
tols from the holsters, which, to his great joy, he 
found loaded. There were also fishhooks and lines, 
with which the foragers had provided themselves 
— no trifling acquisition to one in bis circum- 
stances. The remaining beast he took along with 
him. 

The boy, running to meet him at his return, 
cried, — 

Father, see what I hae found I ’’ 

He held confined in his bonnet, by pressing the 
edges together, a ring-ousel, that was just begin- 
ning to fly. 

Whaur got ye that wee thing the whiles ? ” 

He couldna flee muckle ; sae I gaed hooly till 
near han, when I made a sprang, and grippit 
tilPt.^' 

“ Whatdl ye do wi’ him, lad, noo ye hae got 
him ? ” 

Kill and roast him on a whinstalk.^^ 

The father and boy, in their wanderings, had 
often been reduced to extremity for food, and at 
such times were wont to eat birds, grasshoppers, 
frogs, and even reptiles. 


LIVING BY THE CLAYMORE. 


61 


I wadna harm the puir wee birdie. We hae 
mair meat than we can eat or keep ; ony hear his 
puir mither fleechin’ an’ greetin’. She’s waefu’ 
for her bonny bairn.” 

I winna kill him. He sail gang to his mither,” 
said Allan. 

Placing the bonnet upon the grass, he opened 
it, turning out the bird, that made the best of its 
way to the mother, who was flying around in cir- 
cles at a little distance, while the stern warrior, in 
blood-besprinkled raiment, and the flush of battle 
yet lingering on his brow, looked on well pleased 
to see the happy bird flutter over her young. 

Macgregor now placed the arms and other plun- 
der upon the horse, the boy in the saddle, and, 
taking the beast by the bridle, led him towards 
the place where they had passed the previous 
night, the land becoming more and more broken as 
they proceeded, the Highlander dragging rather 
than leading the animal, and hastening to leave 
the vicinity of the glen, as it was probable that, 
when the horses arrived at the camp, search would 
be made for their riders. 

The track — it could not be called a road — had 
for some time consisted of a narrow pass, bounded 
on one side by a hill, and on the other by a sheer 
precipice of vast height. It now suddenly wi- 
dened, and terminated at the foot of a mountain in 
a great mass of rocks, gravel, and stumps of trees, 
together with broken trunks of the same, brought 


62 


A STOUT HEART. 


down by the winter floods. The mountain side 
was covered here and there with thick groves of 
oak and stunted birch, intermixed with scattered 
firs, and large round rocks, and extensive patches 
of fern and heather, black and of great height. 

They had now come to a point beyond which the 
horse could not proceed ; upon which the moun- 
taineer, killing him, skinned him with his dirk, in 
order to preserve the hide for making brogues — 
a use to which it is well adapted. 

So difficult of access was the steep side of this 
mountain, that Macgregor assisted the boy, partly 
carrying, partly leading him up over the shingles, 
through the oak growth, to a patch of heather, 
among which he laid him down ; and the little fel- 
low, completely worn out by the fatigues and 
excitement of the day, fell asleep at once. 

In the midst of a thicket of scrub oaks was a 
cave, where Macgregor and his boy had lived for 
weeks together, the entrance to which being be- 
neath a shelving rock, admittance was only to be 
gained by creeping on the hands and knees ; but 
once within, there was space sufficient to accom- 
modate a dozen persons. 

There is, perhaps, no country of the same ex- 
tent so abounding in caves of an infinite diversity, 
both in respect to size and form, as the Highlands 
of Scotland. A great proportion of them are en- 
tered by very narrow and tortuous passages, and 
so difficult of discovery that one unacquainted 


LIVING BY THE CLAYMORE. 


6a 


might pass and repass within a few feet without 
discovering them. To such places the mountain- 
eers retired when hard pressed and their dwellings 
destroyed by invaders ; they also, in later times, 
have offered a secure retreat to robbers. The 
knowledge of these hiding-places, many of which 
had more than one entrance, was confined to the 
natives ; and the secret was jealously guarded 
from strangers, and some of them were known 
only to individuals and families. 

To this concealment, after the battle of Culloden, 
had Angus brought his arms and a few household 
conveniences before the arrival of the invaders. 
He now proceeded to deposit in the same secure 
hiding-place everything he had brought on the 
horse from the glen, and, cutting the carcass of 
the beast in pieces, dragged them to a distance, 
and concealed them with weeds and branches of 
trees, strewed gravel over the blood, and, follow, 
ing back on the path, obliterated the tracks of the 
horse wherever visible. 

The cave was seldom used for the purpose of 
repose by Angus, — like all Highlanders, almost 
insensible to the alternations of weather, — but 
principally as a place in which to conceal valuable 
articles, and for refuge in severe storms and when 
hard pressed by enemies. Besides, it was now 
summer time. 

The sun was just dropping behind the hills as 
Macgregor, concluding his toil, ascended the moun- 


64 


A STOUT HEART. 


tain for the last time, and rousin g Allan with much 
difficulty, they made their evening meal from the 
contents of one of the soldiers’ haversacks, consist- 
ing of bread and beef ready cooked. It was the 
first time the Highland boy had ever tasted wheaten 
bread, and he devoured the luscious morsel with 
right good will. They had for many weeks eaten 
their food without seasoning; and scarce inferior 
was the relish of the salted meat. The cravings 
of appetite satisfied, — having fasted since morn- 
ing, — they lay down among the heather, and were 
asleep while yet the daylight lingered in the sky. 

Who could look save with interest upon that 
lonely pair, as they lay slumbering in the ever- 
deepening shadow of the hills, the faint light of 
the gloaming streaming over them? Macgregor, 
with all a mother’s tenderness, had pulled the 
heather to form a couch for the boy, and covered 
him carefully from the dew with his plaid. 

Strange was the contrast between that childish 
form and face and the stern features and massive 
proportions of the sire who lay beside him, the 
naked claymore within reach of his hand, the dirk 
stuck in the ground at his left shoulder, ready to 
spring up at the least alarm, prepared for conflict. 
The purple bells of the heather, drooping with the 
weight of falling dew, almost swept his brow, and 
the plaintive notes of the mavis rose on the even- 
ing air. 

Before summer was past, the work of desola- 


LIVING BY THE CLAYMORE. 


65 


tion was completed ; the soldiers, save those garri- 
soning the forts, were withdrawn, and the wretched 
inhabitants permitted to return to the ruins of 
their former homes. But there were neither houses 
to shelter them, crops to gather, nor cattle to sup- 
port life. Many starved to death; some obtained 
employment in the Lowlands, or were received by 
other clans; some enlisted in British regiments 
that were ordered on foreign service ; some took 
to robbing; and many sold themselves for their pas- 
sage to America; that is, they agreed to labor dur- 
ing a certain period for American planters, to de- 
fray the expense of their passage. And many, who 
made so miserable a beginning, afterwards became 
thriving farmers and large landholders in the coun- 
try of their adoption ; indeed, became, after selling 
themselves into limited slavery, slaveholders. So 
thorough was the work of destruction, that, to use 
the language of an historian of the period, in a 
journey of fifty miles, you would not see a smoke 
or hear a cock crow.’’ 

Angus Macgregor resorted to none of these 
methods of support. He would sooner have 
sheathed the broadsword in his own breast than 
have enlisted in a Sassenach regiment, surrendered 
the Highland dress and the arms of his ancestors, 
or engaged in labor which he had been reared to 
consider degrading ; but he adopted a course that to 
his Highland notions seemed far more suitable to 
the character of a gentleman. 

5 


66 


A STOUT HEART. 


In company with eight more, Macgregor betook 
himself to the most lonely and inaccessible portion 
of the country of Argyle, where they were joined 
by four more of their clan, who had taken refuge 
among the Campbells (the appellation of the clan 
inhabiting the territory), and assumed their name. 

These Macgregor Campbells were familiar with 
that portion of the country lying around the shores 
of Loch Goil, consisting of mountains of great 
height, black heaths, from amidst which rose fear- 
ful precipices, interspersed with little patches of 
arable soil. The mountains seemed to have been 
riven by some convulsion of nature, and their frag- 
ments scattered in all directions ; the result of 
which was to form numerous caverns of various 
shapes and sizes, difficult of discovery. 

These twelve men, all in the prime of life, and 
of whom Angus Macgregor was the acknowledged 
leader, composed a most formidable band. Before 
the troops were withdrawn they had chosen their 
place of residence, and, with infinite labor, re- 
moved to it their arms, and whatever of other arti- 
cles they had in hiding at various places among 
the hills. 

No human invention could have contrived so se- 
cure a retreat. A rocky hill rose precipitously 
from the borders of a black bog, down the side of 
which, among the roots of the ancient growth with 
which the hill was covered, ran a broad, thin sheet 
of water, that, after creating a vast moTass, emptied 


LIVING BY THE CLAYMORE. 


67 


into the neighboring loch. Behind this sheet of 
water opened a fissure not quite three feet in 
width, the entrance to a cavern twenty-two feet in 
length, fifteen in breadth, and with height sufficient 
to permit the tallest person to stand erect. Bull- 
rushes, alders, and other water-loving plants, nour- 
ished by the moisture, completely concealed the 
mouth. 

Here the Macgregors had fixed their abode, and 
with much labor wrought out a narrow exit, aided 
by an opening in the ledge, which, terminating be- 
neath the roots of a large ash, and overgrown with 
bracken, was by no means easily to be discovered. 
The hill furnished abundance of fuel ; so did the 
bog; there was pasturage fora few black cattle, 
and on the eastern slope of the mountain land that 
would admit of cultivation, and fish in the loch. 

It was, however, too late in the season to plant, 
had they possessed the disposition ; and they were 
destitute both of cattle and tools. They were also 
in the territories of the Campbells, who at Culloden 
had fought on the opposite side. 


68 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER VII. 

CONFLICT OF THE OLD AND NEW. 
LTHOUGH a large proportion of the Highland 



clans had fought on the part of the govern- 
ment, in opposition to the Pretender, it was not 
from any attachment to England, but because 
they considered the attempt desperate, and had 
no wish to see the present state of things dis- 
turbed. They were justly disgusted with the 
disarming act and the prohibition of the High- 
land garb. They complained that, after having 
fought for the present form of government, they 
were deprived by it of the very arms wielded 
in its defence, as though arrant rebels. The 
chieftains, likewise shorn of their power to com- 
pel military service, were displeased. The cru- 
elties inflicted after the battle of Culloden also 
excited universal sympathy for the victims, and 
indignation against their authors. 

It is thus evident that the loyal clans were 
not inclined to be very prompt in repressing 
any disorders that might arise in enforcing the 
disarming act, or giving information with re- 


CONFLICT OF THE OLD AND NEW. 


69 


gard to reprisals by individuals upon the royal 
troops. Angus, therefore, was little likely to 
incur danger from the Campbells, in whose do- 
mains he had intruded, who, so long as no tres- 
pass was committed upon them, were not es- 
pecially concerned in respect to any forays he 
might make upon the Lowlands, or the neigh- 
boring clans with whom they were at feud, if 
they did not actually assist in the proceeding. 
The generally disordered state of the Highlands, 
in which the legitimate authority of the native 
chiefs was abolished, and no other as yet substi- 
tuted in its stead, was also favorable to the de- 
signs of the Macgregors. 

Marauding parties had been sent into Inver- 
ness-shire and the different glens bordering upon 
Argyle, and inhabited by the rebel clans, to ac- 
complish the same work of devastation as in the 
vicinity of Fort Augustus, and, having laid waste 
the country and inflicted the greatest cruelties 
upon the inhabitants, were being withdrawn, tak- 
ing with them their plunder, consisting, to a 
great extent, of cattle and sheep. 

The main body of the forces had left the glens 
together with the cavalry ; but a band composed 
of foot-soldiers and hangers-on of the camp lin- 
gered in the rear, having in charge a drove of 
cattle and sheep. Apprehending no danger from 
any of the disloyal clans, who were supposed 
to be not only disarmed, but thoroughly cowed, 


70 


A STOUT HEART. 


they had commenced their march in the latter part 
of the night, in order not to overdrive and heat 
the cattle, intending to rest during the greater 
portion of the day, that the stock might be fresh 
and present a good appearance at Fort Augustus, 
where they expected to sell them to Lowland gra- 
ziers and divide the money. 

They were threading a narrow pass in the wild- 
est portion of Lochaber. Elated with the amount 
of their booty, and excited by whiskey, they were 
shouting, singing camp ditties, ribald songs, and 
boasting of the cruelties they had inflicted, when 
from the cliffs above descended an avalanche of 
rocks and trunks of trees, crushing four of their 
number on the spot, while from either side of the 
pass in the rear arose wild shouts, the import of 
which they knew but too well. With the instinct 
of discipline the soldiers threw themselves into a 
posture of defence, with fixed bayonets. But the 
instant they caught sight of plaids, targets, and 
claymores gleaming in the gray dawn, flinging 
everything away that could impede their progress, 
they fled through the pass, and swore, upon arriv- 
ing at headquarters, that they had been attacked 
by a whole regiment of Highlanders, in their na- 
tional dress and completely armed, and that some 
of them wore the Campbell tartan. 

A party sent from the camp found and buried the 
bodies of the slain ; but the cattle were missing. 
Although it was break of day when the affair oc* 


CONFLICT OF THE OLD AND NEW. 


71 


curred, and the cattle must have been driven away 
in broad dayliglit, and were tracked into Argyle, 
the men of that district knew nothing about them, 
and the chiefs, being interrogated, replied, that 
‘‘ they possessed neither authority to arrest offend- 
ers, nor arms to enforce compliance ; and those who 
had made the new laws must execute them,’’ 

Where the cattle were concealed in the mean 
time was a mystery not easily solved, as it was 
a month before they were observed feeding around 
the shores of Loch Goil. 

Angus and his clansmen lived in this manner for 
some years, making occasional forays into the Low- 
lands, sowing a few oats, cabbage, and turnips, while 
Allan grew up to be a tall, strong youth, and ex- 
pert in all martial exercises. 

In the mean time the state of affairs in the 
Highlands had undergone a gradual revolution in 
consequence of the disarming act, now for the first 
time really carried into effect, and the other regu- 
lations connected with it. The chieftains were no 
longer able to maintain their followers as before, 
by forays upon the Lowlands or upon other clans, 
and it became evident that Highlanders must 
either go to work like other people, or turn rob- 
bers at the risk of their necks ; and this risk began 
now to be more than merely nominal, as roads were 
made, so that the country became accessible in a 
greater degree to the officers of justice, and the 
power of the civil law began to be felt. As the 


72 


A STOUT HEART. 


greatest portion of the country consisted of barren 
mountains and bogs incapable of cultivation, as the 
climate was unfavorable to the raising of crops, 
and the Highlanders were destitute of farming 
tools, capital, or agricultural skill, and for ages 
trained only to warfare, and bred to despise labor, 
great distress ensued. The chieftains, having no 
use for their tenants in war, and unable to support 
them by plunder, turned their domains into graz- 
ing farms, stocked the glens, braes, and mountains 
with cattle and sheep, and left the cotters to shift 
for themselves, the result of which was distress 
and emigration to America and other places. 

It is difficult to conceive of the indignation and 
sorrow with which the regulation prohibiting the 
wearing of the national dress was received, and 
which was enforced by severe penalties. Some 
wore it in private among the mountains, and put 
on breeches when they went where they were ex- 
posed to observation and detection ; others strove 
to evade the law by modifying the national garb, 
and retaining as much of the ancestral dress, en- 
deared by the strongest associations ; and some 
wore the Lowland jacket, but carried the detested 
breeches on a stick over their shoulders. Indeed, 
nothing could be better adapted to a people con- 
stantly compelled to climb mountains, traverse 
bogs, and ford torrents than the Highland dress. 
To deprive a Highlander of arms was almost like 
taking away his manhood. To one who from youth 


CONFLICT OP THE OLD AND NEW. 


73 


had never crossed his threshold in the morning 
without the claymore at his side, it communicated 
a peculiarly helpless feeling. He seemed lowered 
in his own estimation ; his self-respect was, in a 
measure, taken away, and his pride of character 
deeply wounded. 

The influence of changes so radical began at 
length to extend to Angus and his companions. 
It will be perceived that they wore the tartan, and 
bore claymore and target, in absolute defiance of 
law, by the connivance of the Campbells, and in 
virtue of their isolated and well nigh inaccessible 
position, and the reluctance of the officers of the 
law to meddle with men thoroughly armed and of 
the most desperate valor. 

Angus, however, whose prudence and capacity 
in affairs were equal to his courage and skill in 
arms, had been compelled gradually to conform in 
some measure to the altered state of the times. 
Forays into the Lowlands had been conducted at 
longer intervals, with greater caution, and for the 
last two years had been altogether relinquished. 
The little community sowed more oats and bar- 
ley, increased their stock of cattle and sheep, 
and were thus enabled to obtain the means of 
support. 

Their numbers had in the mean while dimin- 
ished ; some of the younger members of the little 
clan, tired of the constraint imposed by the attempt 
to maintain their old Highland independence and 


74 


A STOUT HEART. 


habits, had yielded to the pressure, assumed the 
Lowland dress, mingled with the Campbells, and 
become fishermen ; others, in time of harvest, 
put on the Lowland dress, found work as reapers, 
and, becoming acquainted in the Lowlands, re- 
mained, till at length his command was reduced 
to four of the older Highlanders and Allan, the 
habits of the former being too thoroughly fixed 
to change. 

A new cause of disquietude now presented 
itself to the apprehension of Angus Macgregor. 
He saw with alarm that Allan was beginning to 
catch what to him and his companions seemed 
the degenerate and effeminate spirit of the age. 
He became uneasy, frequented the society of the 
Campbells more than Angus thought was meet, 
began to manifest an inclination for labor which 
Angus considered degrading and totally unworthy 
the descendant of a race of warriors, and at 
length completed the measure of his sire’s amaze- 
ment and anxiety by requesting to be permitted 
to put on enough of the Lowland dress to 
evade the law, and unite with two of the MaC' 
gregors who had left some time previous, pur- 
chase a boat, and go to fishing in the loch, aver< 
ring that they could make it very profitable. 

It is impossible to describle the loathing, nay, 
horror, with which the Macgregor listened to 
this proposal of his son. He reproached him 
in no measured terms for permitting so base 


CONFLICT OF THE OLD AND NEW. 75 

a thought even to enter his mind, — an idea 
worthy only of a Sassenach, — and entreated him, 
as he valued his own honor and that of his an- 
cestors, to banish it at once and forever from 
his mind. 

The stern Macgregor actually foamed at the 
mouth as he represented the utter meanness and 
degradation implied in exchanging the claymore 
for a fishing-line or net ; more especially in ex- 
changing the tartan, that kings had worn, and 
that had vover waved in the fore-front of battle, 
for the accursed breeks, well suited to a race 
of serfs, mechanics, and scriveners. 

It may well be supposed that Allan cherished 
no wish to don the Lowland dress ; but he knew 
it was impossible to expose himself on the loch 
to common observation ; he had become of age 
to form opinions of his own, felt the influence 
of circumstances, was weary of his present mode 
of life, and, moreover, saw that it could not, in 
the altered state of things, last. 


76 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER YIIL 


THE EXILES. 


LEAN did not again venture to broach the 



iA subject of fishing ; but there were influ- 
ences at work all around him to which — however 
little effect they might produce upon the parent — 
the youth could not be insensible. This did by no 
means escape the notice of Angus, who loved the 
boy with all the passionate fondness of his fiery 
nature ; and the affection was fully reciprocated. 

The Macgregor himself was extremely fond of 
fishing ; and the fish of the loch and the streams 
had often supplied his table, and at certain seasons 
of the year were his main dependence. Hunting 
and fishing for the supply of daily wants he es- 
teemed honorable and becoming a gentleman and 
man of spirit — indeed, a species of warfare. But 
it was the reducing it to a mere drudgery^ a trade, 
that especially excited his ire. He cherished the 
same sentiments in respect to any mechanical em- 
ployment, or, indeed, anything that assumed the 
nature of a profession, save that of arms ; deemed 
the pursuit of letters fit only for women, and as 


THE EXILES. 


77 


furnishing rogues and cowards with the means of 
entrapping and injuring honest men. He, indeed, 
possessed considerable mechanical ability, would 
make a tub or pail, wooden bowl to hold milk, and 
even get into the loom and weave ; but these were 
things that must be done, and the doing of which 
rendered him independent. He placed it on the 
same ground as making a bow, a target, the handle 
of a battle-axe, or stocking a musket, which he 
could do very well ; but no amount of money would 
have hired him to do it, though he would accommo- 
date a neighbor in this way free of charge. 

It is evident that his habits of life and mode 
of looking at things — which could no more be 
changed than water can run up hill — were by 
no means suited to the new state of things that 
was fast being inaugurated in the Highlands. He 
observed with great concern that the youth was 
gradually becoming weaned from and outgrowing 
the influence of those old-time ideas with which he 
had so earnestly striven to imbue his mind, and 
becoming more and more disposed to fall in with 
and adopt those current among the young Camp- 
bells with whom he at times associated ; and he 
could not doubt but if his influence and presence 
were withdrawn, his son would lay down the dirk 
and claymore, and take to some regular employ- 
ment. 

His anxieties were excited afresh by Allan’s re- 
questing to accompany a young Campbell a long 


78 


A STOUT HEART. 


distance through the hills to attend a Presbyterian 
meeting. The father refused outright, though it 
pained him thus to do because he saw it grieved 
the lad. Angus, indeed, was a Catholic, though 
by no means bigoted ; and the cause of his refusal 
was not on account of religious prejudice. But 
Allan could not have appeared in such a place ex- 
cept in a Lowland dress, and to this the father 
would by no means consent. Could he have gone 
in his tartan, Angus would have consented, per- 
haps made one of the party. 

The agricultural operations of this little clan 
were quite original. The small portion of ground 
they sowed and planted was dug up with a spade. 
At first there were so many of them that the labor 
was not very arduous, as they planted the same 
piece of land every year, increasing its extent by 
digging up fresh sward, and maintained the fer- 
tility with fish and sea-weed, and also by letting 
portions of it lie fallow, folding cattle upon it, and 
then sowing it the next year. In this way they 
managed to raise oats and barley, a few turnips, 
cabbages, and potatoes. But as their numbers di- 
minished they cultivated less land, till, at the period 
to which we refer, the portion under tillage was 
small indeed. 

Just before it was time to commence labor upon 
the ground in the spring, Angus set out upon a 
journey to the Eastern Highlands, to visit a sick 
relative, intending to return in season to bear his 


THE EXILES. 


79 


share of the usual spring’s work ; but, being de. 
layed, Allan, with all the enthusiasm of a youth in 
whose mind new trains of thought are fermenting, 
and very much to the dissatisfaction of the old 
Highlanders, commenced an entire revolution in 
the line of cultivation. 

He obtained the aid of cattle from the Camp- 
bells, and two men to help him, although the dis- 
tance w^as great, bringing the plough on the back 
of a Highland shelty, — as no cart could by any 
possibility be drawn through the mountains, the 
oxen, even, being several times unyoked and 
driven singly, — and ploughed and harrowed more 
ground than the community had ever before culti- 
vated, sowing a portion of it with oats before the 
cattle were returned, and covering the grain with 
a harrow made by himself, with wooden teeth. 

This by no means met the views of the older 
Highlanders, who, sharing the sentiments of Angus 
to the full, had resolved themselves, during his 
absence, into a vigilance committee to observe the 
motions of Allan, and refused to aid in planting 
more than one half the remaining ground, averring 
that so much labor would be equivalent to reducing 
themselves to the position of mere drudges, no bet- 
ter than Lowland serfs, and that his father would 
by no means approve of his debasing himself to the 
condition of a day laborer. 

Eachin Macgregor, the youngest among them, 
more genial in his temper, and less rigid in his 


80 


A STOUT HEART. 


notions, was very fond of Allan, and the latter per- 
suaded him to assist in accomplishing his plan ; 
and the land was planted by their united efforts. 

When Angus returned and saw what had been 
done during his absence, his peace of mind was 
gone ; and, so far from rejoicing at the inclination 
manifested by his son for effective and remuner- 
ative labor, his willingness to conform to the 
changes of the times, and earn his bread by the 
sweat of his brow, he was thrown into the greatest 
perturbation and distress, casting about himself to 
find some remedy for this growing evil ; and he 
speedily, in conjunction with his companions, de- 
vised a most effectual one. 

His first movement was to convey the arms that 
had once belonged to his father and grandfather, 
and some other ancient mementos that he highly 
valued, into the Lowlands, and commit them to the 
care of a cousin of his own who resided there. He 
opposed, in the mean while, none of Allan’s notions, 
and permitted him to hoe potatoes, cabbages, and 
turnips to his heart’s content, very much to the 
satisfaction of the latter, who congratulated him- 
self on account of what he considered a radical 
change in the ideas of his parent. 

He was exceedingly proud of his success in agri- 
culture, and could scarcely contain himself when 
the two Campbells who helped him plough the 
ground make a toilsome journey, partly by water 
and partly through the mountains and bogs, to look 


THE EXILES. 


81 


at his crops, and expressed themselves highly grati- 
fied. Indeed, this youth, cradled in alarms, and 
from childhood familiar with violence of every de- 
scription, was rapidly becoming enamoured of labor 
upon the soil, and likely to prefer it to robbery 
and slaughter, for he was gradually coming to per- 
ceive that the forays upon the Sassenachs, that he 
had been taught to consider honorable and justifi- 
able, and in which he, to some extent, had already 
taken part, amounted to just that, were so con- 
sidered in law, and exposed the authors to punish- 
ment. Besides, the savage and solitary life of the 
cavern did by no means suit the noble and affec- 
tionate disposition of Allan, who sought and found 
relief in communion with Nature and in the tilling 
of the soil. 

Unable to read, cut off in a great measure from 
all companionship except that of his father, whose 
spirit was so different from his own, and the savage 
Highlanders, who never stirred abroad but with 
their weapons rattling around them, he found solace 
in listening to the hum of bees among the heather, 
looking into the meek faces of the cattle that lay 
and chewed their cuds near him, and in watching 
the growth of his crops, that had now become al- 
most a part of himself 

The potatoes were in blossom, and growing 
finely ; the turnips and cabbages that Allan had 
kept clear of weeds and dressed with sea-wrack, 
their specific manure, gave promise of a great 
6 


82 


A STOUT HEART. 


yield ; and the young Highland farmer, after a hard 
day’s work, lay down to dream of an abundant har* 
vest, inwardly resolving that when the oats were 
harvested he would take them to the duke’s mill, 
instead of grinding them in a quern, as his father 
would have him, even if he must put on the Low- 
land dress to do it. 

At midnight he was roused by the stern tones 
of his father, commanding him to rise and arm him- 
self directly. His first thought was, that they 
were either attacked, or that some foray into the 
Lowlands was to be undertaken. 

Angus deigned to his son no explanation of his 
design, which was well understood by his com- 
rades, but led the way to the shores of the loch, 
where they found a young Highlander, by the 
name of Robert Campbell, in waiting with a boat, 
but unarmed. They pulled silently off some dis- 
tance into the loch, and alongside an English 
schooner, that was waiting for a cargo of wool, 
hides, and stockfish. There was no watch on 
deck, and cautiously mounting the side, they dis- 
missed Campbell, who, waving his bonnet in adieu, 
pulled ashore. Angus, rapping with the hilt of his 
claymore upon the companion-way, soon roused the 
skipper and crew, who, finding themselves sur- 
rounded by Highlanders with drawn swords, fell 
on their knees and begged for mercy. 

Macgregor informed them they need apprehend 
no injury, either in person or property, provided 


THE EXILES. 


83 


they implicitly obeyed his orders, and directed them 
to weigh anchor and make sail. The wind was fair 
and plenty of it, and they were soon proceeding 
at a rapid rate for the coast of France. 

Everything had been left behind but their arms 
— the potatoes in blossom, the grain in the milk, the 
cattle on the hill-side, and all their domestic utensils 
and provisions in the cave. These, together with 
the cattle and crops in the ground, Angus had 
given to the family of Robert Campbell, the man 
who had set them on board the vessel, in return 
for that service and many other favors, which, from 
time to time, he and his companions had received 
from them. 

His father now informed Allan, times had in the 
Highlands changed so much for the worse, and the 
law was approaching so near to that part of the 
country, as to render it impossible much longer to 
live, as they had done, by the edge of the claymore, 
leaving nothing in prospect for the future but the 
most servile labor ; therefore he and his clansmen 
had resolved to enter the service of the King of 
France, and retain their swords and their honor. 

Upon reaching the French coast Angus dis- 
missed the skipper, rewarding him suitably both 
for his detention and the fright to which he and 
his crew had been subjected. 

I had never thought,” said Angus, his eye 
moistening as he gazed after the receding vessel 
till she faded from view, that I should ever have 


84 


A STOUT HEART. 


left the hills and the heather. But exile is better 
than dishonor.’^ 

It was an age of constant warfare among the 
European powers ; and the Macgregors for many 
years followed the flag of France wherever it led, 
in company with hundreds of their countrymen 
who had found a refuge in that kingdom from dan- 
ger at home, till all their clansmen were slain in 
battle, and both Angus and his son had received 
wounds, although not of a kind to disable them. 

The father, at length becoming too old for mili- 
tary service, began to long once more to see his 
native land, especially as he knew that the law 
in relation to wearing the Highland dress had been 
repealed, also the edict proscribing the name of 
Macgregor; and the disarming act was a dead 
letter. 

‘‘ Then, Allan,’’ said the old warrior, I’ll tread 
the heather ance mair, and hear the pibroch amang 
the hills before I dee.” 

They accordingly returned ; and, having laid 
by a small sum, Allan hired the brae where our 
tale found them, married a lass whose mother had 
been his playmate when, a child, he lived among the 
Macleans, and had now ample opportunity to renew 
that just-begun acquaintance with the soil that had 
been rudely interrupted so many years before. 

When the Macgregor expressed a wish to return 
to the Highlands, his son replied that, in order to 
support him, — which, indeed, he considered a 


THE EXILES. 


85 


privilege, — he should be compelled to labor ; must 
do as others, fall in with the habits of the people, 
that had, doubtless, changed very much during 
their absence ; and that, if his parent continued to 
cherish his old prejudices, and was unwilling to 
see him work, they must remain in France. Angus 
promised to make no objection, which promise he 
faithfully kept, and, as we have seen, even labored 
himself, all that Allan would permit, feeling, per- 
haps, he had been too rigid in the past, and re* 
quired too much of a dutiful son. 


86 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE RETURN. 

W E have already referred to the early incli- 
nation of Allan Macgregor to till the soil. 
His military life in foreign lands had done nothing 
to weaken that native bias ; but tlie observations 
he made of the results and practice of labor abroad, 
while thus employed, had all contributed to 
strengthen the disposition. He perceived that the 
wealth and power of England grew out of agri- 
cultural and mechanical labor, while the inferiority 
of his own country in these respects was owing 
not so much to a poorer soil as to the reluctance 
of the inhabitants to steady employment, especial- 
ly in the Highlands, where for ages it had been 
considered derogatory. 

Allan therefore resolved to apply himself with 
energy and perseverance to labor, and train up his 
family in habits of industry. He was not pos- 
sessed of the aid of capital. His pay as a soldier 
had enabled him to lay by only a small sum, which 
was closely husbanded, and kept in reserve to fall 
back upon in the event of sickness, short crops, 


THE RETURN. 


87 


or loss of cattle ; and he had yet to learn by expe- 
rience the management of cattle and cultivation 
of the soil. 

But, notwithstanding these disadvantages and 
discouragements to a soldier who had never formed 
habits of settled labor, there were many other 
things that, in respect to this new mode of life, 
combined to encourage him with the hope of ulti- 
mate success. His wife, during those years of 
terrible poverty and distress occasioned by the 
defeat at Culloden, had gone to service in the 
family of a relative in the Lowlands, thus being 
trained to work, and acquiring a thorough knowl- 
edge, not merely of household management, but 
also of out-door employments. 

In those days, in England and Scotland, women 
were accustomed to work in the fields ; and she 
could reap, stook grain, hoe, and drive cattle to 
plough. And, though Allan would not permit her 
to labor in the field, save in some exigency, yet 
her advice to one ignorant of farm work was in- 
valuable. 

He was also not only possessed of great natural 
strength, but retained his youthful activity and 
power of endurance in a remarkable degree. As 
we have stated, Maegregor had not received any 
wounds of a kind to permanently disable him ; and, 
though he had been exposed to severe privations 
and great fatigue at times as a soldier, they were 
counterbalanced by long periods of inaction in 


88 


A STOUT HEART. 


camp and garrison ; and such a life does by no 
means bow the frame, stiffen the joints, and strain 
the muscles like hard lifts, employments in-doors 
that tax severely one set of muscles, or like con- 
stant delving and ditching. They made no impres- 
sion upon his iron frame, from childhood inured to 
all the vicissitudes of weather ; and he was in the 
full flush of strength and activity at an age when 
many are well nigh past labor. In addition to this, 
the brae-side which he occupied was productive, 
being fertilized by wash from the higher pasture- 
grounds ; and the loch afforded sea-wrack for ma- 
nure. 

The Macgregors also experienced great kindness 
from the Campbells, notwithstanding the fearful 
acts the clan had at times perpetrated when made 
frantic by persecution and proscription. The in- 
domitable pluck of the race that never hesitated 
an instant between death and what they esteemed 
dishonor, ever commanded consideration. By be- 
coming outlaws, betaking themselves to a cave, 
enduring a thousand privations, and finally going 
into voluntary exile because they would wear the 
garb, wield the arms, and live the free life of their 
ancestors, they carried out in practice a sentiment 
that throbbed in every Highland bosom ; and those 
not possessed of the nerve to follow their example, 
yet applauded the act. 

When, therefore, Angus Macgregor, accompa- 
nied by his son, landing at Loch Fyne, trod once 


THE RETURN. 


89 


more his native heather (after the acts making it a 
penal offence to wear the dress or bear the name 
of his ancestors had been repealed), all distinctions 
of name and clan were forgotten, and they were 
welcomed with all the fervor of Highland congrat- 
ulation. 

As the Macgregor stood among his countrymen, 
his towering form erect as ever, and step still firm, 
clad in the garb of the Gael, completely armed, 
while his white locks, escaping beneath his blue 
bonnet, floated over his shoulders, he seemed to 
them the embodiment of all most dear in bygone 
days ; for the prohibition had been so long in force 
that nearly all of the generation who witnessed its 
enactment had passed away. 

Old men gazed with streaming eyes upon the 
dress they had worn and the arms they had wielded 
in the days of manhood, consecrated by a thousand 
proud and stirring memories, and suggestive of 
ancestral renown. One aged chieftain, celebrated 
for valor and skill in arms, but now walking with 
difficulty by the aid of a staff, actually kissed, in 
his enthusiasm, the target on the arm of Angus, 
that bore the marks of many a thrust from lance 
and bayonet. Then, turning to the youth, who 
gazed with wonder and admiration upon the stal- 
wart forms, arms, and martial bearing of the stran- 
gers, he exclaimed, — 

Ay, bairns, ye see what the Gael was ance, and 
what they hae come to noo. Wad Highlanders ony 


90 


A STOUT HEART. 


hae stnde shouther to shouther, the Sassenacha 
wadna hae ta’en awa our arms and a’ that was 
our fathers’. Tak a gude leuk at thae men, lad- 
dies. Ye’ll see nae mair o’ the likes, for our lairds 
hae turned sheep farmers for the Sassenach butch- 
ers and wabsters, our lads are ganging about wi’ a 
spade on their shouther in place o’ the claymore 
at their belt. The glen that could turn out five 
hunder lads at the skirl o’ the pipes, wi’ claymore 
in han’, to do the laird’s bidding, and fecht for coun- 
try and the weal o’ the clan, is noo fu’ o’ sheep and 
nowte, wi’ noo an’ then a cowherd in breeks, an^ 
we’re a’ dowf an’ feckless thegither.” 

After Allan had leased the brae, neighbors col- 
lected to aid in building his cot and enclosing his 
fields ; nor did their kindness end here. Some 
contributed fowls, others a pair of sheep or goats, 
and some a cow. When the duke became aware 
of the feelings of the clan, he instructed his factor 
to grant Allan certain privileges, such as permis- 
sion to fish in the loch, hunt in the hills, and the 
use of cattle and a plough, to break up his ground. 

As the children grew up, the society of their 
grandfather became more and more attractive. 
Having abundance of leisure, he made their play- 
things, shared their sports, and delighted them 
with stories, his fund of which was inexhaustible. 
Especially was this the case with Jamie, who con- 
stantly importuned him to relate stories of a war- 
like character. Before the boy was of an age to 


THE RETURN. 


91 


be of much use to his father in the work of the 
farm, the greater portion of his time was spent in 
listening to tales of this nature, of which he was 
never weary. 

Hour after hour would the child sit on his grand- 
sire's knee, his hands clinched in the old man's 
locks, with flushed cheek, suspended breath, and 
flashing eyes, listening to some touching story of 
the clansman sacrificing his own life to save that 
of his chief, or thrilling tales of desperate conflict. 

As James grew older, the communications of the 
grandparent embraced a wider range, and he re- 
counted every event of importance in the history 
of the clan, from the time of Kenneth Macalpine 
to those of Dugald Ciar Mohr (or the great mouse- 
colored man) and Rob Roy, and from thence to 
Culloden ; the bloody feuds and desperate frays 
that made up a great part of their history ; the 
promptitude with which they revenged insults to 
the clan, and hastened to wipe out in blood any 
stain upon its honor ; and related to him the story 
of Drummond Eirnich, the king's forester, who 
hung several of the Macgregors, upon which a 
party of them killed him and cut off his head. 
They carried the head to the church of Balquid 
der, and placed it on the altar. The whole clan 
assembled, and, going up to the ghastly trophy one 
by one, laid their hands on it, and swore to make 
common cause with the men who had done the 
deed. 


92 


A STOUT HEART. 


He told him of the hardihood of his ancestors, 
their ability to endure cold, hunger, and fatigue ; 
that they were a king’s clan, directly descended 
from Kenneth Macalpine, king of the Scots and 
Piets ; quoted the old Gaelic rhyme, — 

“ Hills, waters, and Macalpines 
Are the three oldest things in Albion,” — 

and repeated to him the songs of the old bards, 
with which his memory was stored, celebrating 
the prowess of their chieftains. Angus generally 
concluded his more lengthened narrations by im- 
pressing upon the mind of his pupil these pre- 
cepts : to recollect from what blood he sprang, and 
never be guilty of a mean or cowardly act ; to 
avenge an injury, prefer death to dishonor, and 
never turn his back upon an enemy nor upon a 
friend ; to despise effeminacy, endure hunger and 
pain with fortitude ; and that nothing was more 
dishonorable than to be a belly-god, and, like the 
Sassenachs, more solicitous in respect to eating and 
laying up money than in obtaining glory and the 
respect of brave men. 

It is evident such instructions often repeated, 
and such influences operating upon an impressible 
spirit at its formative period, were by no means 
salutary; neither adapted to foster habits and modes 
of thought either proper, or likely to prove profit- 
able and practically useful to a lad coming forward 
at that time, however well suited to the days of 


THE RETURN. 


93 


his grandfather ; and their influence was soon 
manifested. 

James Macgregor not only bore a strong resem- 
blance to his grandparent in form and feature, — 
being large of limb, — but seemed to have imbibed 
his very spirit. He was familiar with the history 
of all the arms that hung on the walls of the best 
room, could tell by whom they had been worn, and 
in what conflicts of note they had done good ser- 
vice. In short, he lived in an atmosphere of eld, 
and his great desire was to form himself upon the 
model of one of the old Macgregors. He was obe- 
dient to his parents, industrious, performing every 
task imposed by his father, as he grew older, cheer- 
fully, and with apparent interest in the work. 

He possessed a singularly frank and affectionate 
disposition, indomitable tenacity of purpose, and 
seemed utterly devoid of fear, but subject to sud- 
den gusts of passion, as brief in duration as violent 
while they lasted. He was of a generous nature, 
and ever ready to prefer the interests of his friends 
to his own, and extremely conscientious in regard 
to what he esteemed right. Thus, notwithstand- 
ing occasional quarrels, Jamie was much beloved 
by his mates, and soon came to exert great influ- 
ence among them. 

One source of the great power of Angus over 
the mind of his grandchild was to be sought for 
in the superior capacity of the lad, combined with 
his ardent thirst for knowledge, and that the com 


94 


A STOUT HEART. 


versation of the grandsire afforded, in the absence 
of other advantages, almost the only opportunity 
of gratifying it ; for, though Allan Macgregor could 
cut off a horse’s neck with a stroke of his broad- 
sword, and bring down a black duck on the wing 
with a single ball, while his wife was versed in all 
household duties of the period, not one of the 
family, from the grandparent down, could read or 
write ; and there was not a book in the house. 
Jamie had never seen such a thing ; and there was 
neither school nor church in the vicinity. No 
marvel, then, that the eager spirit of the child, 
thirsting for knowledge, should become absorbed 
and influenced by those narrations in which there 
was so much to feed both the understanding and 
the imagination. 

Angus now made a bow and arrows, a target, 
and two broadswords of wood, with wicker hilts, 
and began, at leisure hours, to give his pupil les- 
sons in archery, varied occasionally by the intro- 
duction of the musket, when be could afford the 
expense of powder, to which succeeded the broad- 
sword exercise. 

It was not long before Jamie invited one after 
another of his playmates to participate, very much 
to the satisfaction of his grandfather, who was 
never better pleased than when, seated on a stone 
at the door of the cot, he watched their mock en- 
counters. 

Allan was by no means pleased with the direc- 


THE RETURN. 


95 


tion matters were taking, and would have much 
preferred Jamie should have remained ignorant of 
all those things that had outlived their usefulness ; 
but, as he saw it gratified his father and pleased 
Jamie, he did not care to interfere, thinking the 
lad would lay them aside as he grew older. 

Now and then, at the persuasion of the boys, he 
would give them a lesson ; and sometimes, as a 
reward for diligence in work, the father and grand- 
father would array themselves in full Highland 
dress, and, with target and broadsword, engage in 
a fencing bout. 


96 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER X. 

MILITARY ENTHUSIASM. 

S James increased in age, he became more 



desirous of emulating the hardihood of those 
ancestors with whose characteristic traits the 
stories of his grandfather had made him familiar ; 
and his thoughts appeared to run entirely in this 
direction. He seemed, though much attached to 
his sisters, and ever ready to join them, and assist 
in any of the out-door labors they performed, but 
little inclined to engage in their sports ; and, while 
they had abundance of pets, — kids, lambs, chick- 
ens, and calves, — he manifested no interest in 
such things ; and even the collie dog could win 
from him only a passing regard. 

On the other hand, he delighted in those labors 
which taxed most severely his muscles and his 
power of endurance, and never complained of 
fatigue, employed his leisure hours climbing the 
most dangerous precipices, exploring the caves 
and dark passes among the mountains, and re. 
peating to himself the songs of the old bards, that 


MILITARY ENTHUSIASM. 


97 


he had learned from his grandfather, his mother, 
and a cousin of his father’s, who often visited 
them, and had great store of old songs and tra- 
ditions. 

On these occasions, imagining himself some 
chieftain of the olden time, he would strut along 
the brae or the mountain ridge, breathing defiance 
to the enemies of his clan ; delighted to visit those 
places where battles had been fought, and the 
graves of chieftains renowned in song. When- 
ever he could be spared by his father, he was ac- 
customed to set out upon these expeditions with- 
out regard to weather, passing the night among 
hills, and returning in season for work in the morn- 
ing, very much to the alarm, at times, of his mother, 
who feared he would die in the process of becom- 
ing a chieftain worthy to bear the name of Mac- 
gregor, seeing that, in December, if surprised by 
night among the hills, the lad would dip his plaid 
in a brook till thoroughly soaked, and, taking one 
corner between his teeth, roll it around him and 
lie down among the heather, or under the lee of a 
rock or hill-side, the freezing of the cloth render- 
ing it impervious to air. Upon these occasions he 
carried for food oatmeal, a horn cup and wooden 
spoon, nothing more ; and when hungry he filled 
the cup from the brook, stirred in the oatmeal, and 
ate it raw. 

There were two things James greatly desired; 
one was, to visit the ancient seat of the Macgreg' 
7 


98 


A STOUT HEART. 


ors, in Glenurchy, from which they had been 
driven, and the other, that his mother should make 
for him a tartan suit of his own clan colors, for she 
was exceedingly skilful in such matters. With 
this object in view, he exerted himself so much in 
the work of the farm, and in helping catch and cure 
fish, as to obtain his request. It was determined 
that, after harvest, he should go, and during his 
journey procure the materials which his mother re- 
quired to dye the garments. 

Furnished by his grandfather with a plan of the 
roads, drawn on birch bark, with a stock of oat- 
meal, his horn cup and wooden spoon, he set forth. 
It was necessary only to provide himself with suf- 
ficient food to sustain him while travelling in the 
uninhabited parts of the country, hospitality to the 
stranger being so universal in the Highlands as to 
insure him a welcome at every cot he might pass 
on his route. 

At this period many and good roads had been 
made in the Highlands by the government of Great 
Britain ; but they were not much used by the na- 
tives ; and James was too firmly grounded in High- 
land sentiments and prejudices to use an English 
road, but preferred the ancient track ; and, as he 
was not limited by his father in regard to time, 
he resolved to visit the country around Loch 
Lomond. 

Not one boy out of a hundred ’would have enter- 
tained the notion of making such a journey with- 


MILITARY ENTHUSIASM. 


99 


out some mate of his own age ; would have derived 
any enjoyment from it, or have dared even to 
wander in the hills alone. But the mind of James, 
prematurely quickened by intercourse with older 
persons, had already begun to assume a reflective 
cast. Though a boy, he was prone to reverie ; 
found already resources in himself ; and imagina- 
tion, fed by the traditions of which he was en- 
amoured, peopled the solitary glens with the forms 
of other days. 

The young adventurer carried a light fusee, a 
fishing-line, and could kindle a fire by means of his 
gun. The free life, the hardship, and proud con- 
sciousness of being sufficient to himself, were in 
themselves sources of the highest enjoyment to 
this young scion of a wild race, who felt the charm, 
though ignorant of its meaning; while his heart 
throbbed in unison with the song of birds, the 
dash of torrents, and the changeful noise of the 
winds that swept with angry roar through the 
ravines, or, murmuring soft and low among the 
bracken, lulled him to repose. No meal that his 
mother cooked ever tasted half so sweet as the^fish 
roasted on a flat stone, and eaten beneath the 
shadow of a tree or an overhanging cliff, with 
smoke for sauce, or the bird baked in a hole in the 
ground. 

Peradventure our young readers would like to 
know something about this ancient road, preferred 
by James to the military ones of Marshal Wade, or 

LofC. 


100 


A STOUT HEART. 


those constructed by the government at a later 
da}^ ; and it is even possible they might not con- 
sider it a road at all ; indeed, we are compelled to 
say it could only be discerned by the greater num- 
ber of white stones from which the moss had been 
worn, and the shortness of the grass, for no wheel 
had ever passed over it, while the footprints of 
cattle could here and there be seen in the clay be- 
tween the stones. At some points, all the way in 
which he could distinguish it was by getting down 
on his knees and looking a long distance ahead, 
when he could catch its general direction, the 
greater number of white stones giving a lighter 
shade in contrast with the dark hue of the 
heather. 

Frequently the road wound around the side of a 
mountain with such an abrupt slant that it was 
with difficulty the traveller could keep his feet. 
At length he arrived at a place where the cliff pro- 
jected over the lake, and the path was so near the 
edge, and slanting, withal, that he could only es- 
cape instant death by clinging to the bushes and 
roots of the stunted trees ; and, a little farther 
along, he was obliged to creep on his hands and 
knees over a smooth, inclining ledge, strewn with 
great boulders. In many places the road was 
crossed by deep ravines, through which mountain 
torrents poured, and, though the streams were not 
then full, and there were fords at the crossings, in 
respect to which he had been instructed by High- 


MILITARY ENTHUSIASM. 


101 


landers whom he met on his way, they were very 
diflScult for a lad to cross ; and he at length en- 
countered a torrent so deep, that, in order to pass 
it, he was obliged to swim, leaving his gun behind, 
floating his plaid across on the dry branch of a 
tree, and carrying his oatmeal in the top of his 
bonnet. 

The enthusiastic boy, however, deemed it a 
splendid road, far preferable to the government 
turnpikes, because it was the road of the Gael, 
worn by the feet of those whom he had been taught 
to revere, and had never been deflled by the car- 
riages of the Sassenachs. 

Many a scene of beauty and sublimity met the 
eye, and sank into the very soul of the proud boy, 
as he rose in his own estimation from having mas- 
tered the perils of the route, and resolved to prove 
himself a worthy descendant of those in whose 
steps he had trodden. 

Having visited the scenes of events respecting 
which his grandsire had informed him, made the 
acquaintance of many of the Macgregors, and 
added considerably to his stock of traditionary 
lore, he, while returning, obtained the materials 
required by his mother in her manufactures. 

He gathered the tops of a peculiar kind of heath- 
er and the bark of alder and aurn for black, white 
crottle (crotal) — a lichen that grows on rocks — 
for crimson, a moss that he found in the low ground 
for blue. Green and yellow were also procured 


102 


A STOUT HEART. 


from heather, the cloth being first dyed blue with 
maple bark. Brown was obtained from the roots 
of the water lily. Alum and copperas, to fix the 
colors, — which were remarkably bright and last- 
ing, — they procured from rocks in which iron 
pyrites abounded, and sometimes made use of the 
water that drained from rocks of that character 
into the bogs, boiling it down. 

James, after his return, was compelled to endure 
a severe trial of his patience before obtaining the 
dress he so much coveted, as the weaving of the 
plaid by hand, and with the rude implements pos- 
sessed by his mother, involved much labor and 
care. The preparation, also, of the native dyes 
from lichens, moss, lily roots, barks, and heather, 
was a slow process, several months being required 
to steep the materials. But they were permanent 
and beautiful colors when thus obtained, some of 
them far superior to those produced by professional 
dyers, especially the crimson, that predominated in 
the Macgregor tartan. Only think of a boy wait- 
ing three months for the liquor, in which his new 
dress was to be colored, to ripen and attain its full 
strength ! Indeed, he must have waited twelve 
for the preparation of one color — the red — if his 
mother had not, fortunately, been provided with a 
small quantity prepared for another purpose, which, 
being added to the materials brought by James, 
hastened the process. 

The time, however, passed more rapidly than you 


MILITARY ENTHUSIASM. 


103 


might suppose. Turf was to be brought home 
from the bog, and wood from the hills, for winter 
fuel, — the Macgregors being allowed any dead 
wood or drift stuff, — herrings to be caught and 
smoked for winter use, and in which the children 
bore their part. 

When cold weather fairly set in, Macgregors who 
were relatives came to visit them ; tales were told, 
songs sung, compositions of the old bards repeated 
by the visitors, many of which were new to the 
children. Angus and Allan, on the other hand, re- 
lated events that had taken place, and scenes and 
battles they had witnessed in France and the Low 
Countries ; and, to complete the happiness of the 
children, a piper came from Balquidder, bringing 
both the Irish pipes, suitable to play accompani- 
ments to songs in the house, and the great war- 
bagpipes ; and they had music that would have 
driven any but Highlanders frantic. 

In the mean while James had collected what he 
dignified with the name of a regiment of his com- 
panions, whom he had inspired with his own spirit, 
both Campbells and Macgregors, furnished with tar- 
gets, and broadswords of tough wood, and wooden 
guns, and who were not only instructed by Angus, 
separately, in the use of the broadsword, and, by 
ceaseless practice, had become quite cunning of 
fence, but had, likewise, been drilled to act to- 
gether, and practise those simple evolutions used 
by the Highlanders in actual warfare. To prevent 


104 


A STOUT HEART. 


jealousy between the clans, James Macgregor and 
Robert Campbell assumed the command by turns, 
although there were eighteen Campbells and but 
ten Macgregors. James, however, was the lead- 
ing spirit ; he had originated the matter, and 
was universally liked. All these boys, — some 
of whom, afterwards, joining the Highland regi- 
ments in the British armies, led by their native 
chiefs, and wearing the tartan, maintained the 
honor of their ancestors, — like James, were mak- 
ing preparations to appear in Highland dress, 
and, meanwhile, made blankets serve for plaids, 
and often camped in the hills, in frost and snow, 
without other shelter, to harden themselves and 
show of what stuff they were made. 

With the advent of spring they were prepared 
to take the field, plaided and plumed, and with 
weapons of tough ash and oak, that, aided by 
older heads, they had spent the winter in fab- 
ricating, and were extremely gratified with the 
praises bestowed upon them by their parents 
and the rest of the neighborhood, before whom 
they exhibited themselves in a sham combat. 

It was now stirring times. Every leisure 
day was occupied in drill and mock contests, 
some of which bordered upon reality, for they 
were by no means bloodless; the dirks and 
swords, made of tough ash or oak, oiled, and 
hardened in the smoke, were certainly not harm- 


MILITARY ENTHUSIASM. 


105 


less weapons. Owen Campbell was run through 
the cheek with a dirk, Randall Macgregor had 
three front teeth knocked out with a broad- 
sword, and Archie Campbell his scalp laid open 
with a gash three inches in length ; and black 
eyes and broken noses were plenty. 


106 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE CLAN FIGHT. 

GREAT drawback upon their enjoyments, and 



one which they felt very keenly, was the 
lack of music. It seemed, in a great measure, to 
take the pith and spirit from their enterprise. 
Other defects, by ingenuity, could be remedied ; 
but a piper could not be extemporized. A boy 
was not possessed of sufficient wind, and years of 
practice were required to attain the requisite skill. 
But in the latter part of spring this pressing want 
was supplied. 

The Highland chieftains who possessed lands 
that admitted of cultivation now turned their at- 
tention to agriculture and improving the breed of 
cattle and sheep, draining bogs that were fertile 
enough to repay the outlay, and planting barren 
mountains with firs. Having this object in view, 
the Duke of Argyle leased a large quantity of land 
to a Lowland farmer — agreeing at the same time 
to put down drains, and stock it with improved 
breeds of English cattle, in order to increase the 
value of his property, and instruct his Highland 


THE CLAN FIGHT. 


107 


tenants in matters pertaining to the cultivation of 
the soil — at a very cheap rent. 

In consequence of the distress resulting from the 
rebellion in '45, a Macgregor, who had taken refuge 
among the Stewarts and assumed their name, re- 
moved to the Lowlands in order to find employ- 
ment, there married, and reared a family. In the 
course of years his youngest daughter became the 
wife of a farmer by the name of Anderson, the 
same to whom the duke had let the land already 
referred to. 

Sandie Macgregor, now an old man, though many 
years younger than Angus, was yet hale and hearty, 
a piper by profession, and familiar with all the 
Highland marches, songs, slogans, and many of the 
productions of the old bards, both those relating to 
the clan Gregor and others. 

You may imagine, then, the excitement among 
the boys when Hugh Anderson and his family, 
bringing with them old Sandie, took up land with- 
in half a mile of Allan Macgregor’s, and moved into 
a stone cottage the duke had ordered built for his 
new tenants, the roof covered with slates in lieu 
of thatch. 

The entire unexpectedness of the event gave, 
also, a peculiar zest to their joy. When it became 
known in the hills that the duke — after dispos- 
sessing so many of his own clan, turning their land 
into sheep-walks, and compelling the original occu- 
pants to leave their native glens, to obtain a pro 


108 


A STOUT HEART. 


carious living in the Lowlands, or emigrate — had 
let a farm, for a mere nominal rent, to a Lowlander, 
built him a stone cottage, and expected the natives 
to profit by his superior knowledge, it occasioned a 
general feeling of aversion towards the new-comer, 
and a tacit resolve to let him severely alone, and 
neither make nor meddle with one little better than 
a Sassenach. 

One pleasant evening in the last days of May, 
the entire household of the Macgregors, tempted 
by the beauty of the evening, had left the close 
and smoky atmosphere of the cot for the little green 
before the door. 

Not a breath of wind stirred the heather. Angus 
was seated upon the great rock beside the thresh- 
old dozing, the collie dog asleep at his feet. 
Allan and his wife were sitting upon the grass, 
conversing, the children listening. The cows, just 
milked, were lying around ; and so great was the 
stillness, that, in the pauses of conversation, the 
low sound made by the cattle in chewing the cud 
could be distinctly heard. 

At once the deep silence was broken by the 
strains of a bagpipe, played with masterly power 
and execution, and which, while perfectly distinct, 
were at the same time so mellowed by distance as 
to lose their wonted harshness. 

The cattle pricked up their ears, put up their 
cuds, and one cow rose to her feet. Angus Mac- 
gregor, starting from his doze, listened intently, as 


THE CLAN FIGHT. 


109 


did the rest of the group, while the collie dog, 
turning his head on everj side, seemed in doubt 
whether it was his duty to bark or not. 

After a few rambling notes, as though to test the 
power and condition of the instrument, ‘‘ Blue Bon- 
nets over the Border ” rang among the hills, given 
with such effect that the hot tears ran down the 
cheeks of Angus and Allan, while the children, 
awe-struck at such exhibitions of emotion, listened 
mute and wondering. Long after the sound of the 
pipes ceased the household remained silent, in ex- 
pectation of a repetition. At length Angus said, — 

“ That was frae Anderson’s ; but nae Lowland 
piper can blow like that. Some Highland mon on 
his travels has drapped in amang them.” 

“ Nor Highland mon, either,” replied Allan, 
“ nowadays. I hae heard naething like it sin I was 
a callan.” 

In a few moments the pipes were heard again ; 
this time it was the Battle of Harlaw ; ” then, 
The Campbells are coming,” then Ha, Johnnie 
Coppie, are ye Wanking yet ? ” and The Gather- 
ing of the Clan.” 

When, at length, the music ceased, it left Angus 
and his son in such a state of excited feeling that 
they began to talk about old times, the children 
eagerly listening, and continued the conversation 
till a late hour of the night. 

Early on the ensuing morning, Angus proceeded 
to Anderson’s, resolved to invite the piper, who- 


no 


A STOUT HEART. 


ever he might be, to make him a visit. This was 
the first call Anderson’s family had received from 
any of the neighbors. Angus was welcomed 
with cordiality, and ascertained that the piper, 
whose music had so delighted and afiected both 
himself and son, was of his own clan, had borne 
arms for the first time, when only seventeen, in the 
battle of Culloden, and was the father of Ander- 
son’s wife. He now forgot all his prejudices in re- 
lation to Anderson as a Lowlander and interloper, 
took dinner with the family, and on his return 
brought with him both Sandie Macgregor and his 
pipes. 

The boys now exerted themselves, and most suc- 
cessfully, to cultivate the acquaintance and win the 
good will of Sandie, who gave them music to the 
full, thus imparting still greater interest to their 
amusements, and causing them to assume more of 
the character of real warfare, since these were the 
same notes that had roused the spirit of their 
fathers on many a bloody field. 

Thus far everything had proceeded pleasantly. 
Hard blows and severe bruises had been dealt and 
received, but all in good humor. They had enjoyed 
rare sport, and given their muscles a wholesome 
training. Now, however, the exercises, so often 
repeated, had grown somewhat monotonous, and 
their interest in them began to fiag. 

In order to sustain the enthusiasm, they hit upon 
a new expedient. It was this : that they should 


THE CLAN FIGHT. 


Ill 


not merely engage as Highlanders with Highland- 
ers, but, professing a bloody feud, as Campbells 
and Macgregors. 

It was carefully stipulated that there should be 
no ill will, that no personal antipathies or clannish 
feelings should enter into the contest, but they 
should merely contend, as before, for the fun of the 
thing, and to see who were the best men, and by 
no means get mad,” as it was merely done for the 
sake of giving variety and a fresh impulse to the 
conflicts that were becoming somewhat threadbare 
and losing their interest. 

The greatest difficulty arose from the unequal 
number of the combatants, there being originally 
eighteen Campbells to ten Macgregors, without the 
leaders. It was now, however, somewhat better. 
Two Macgregors had moved into the district, 
making the number twelve. Two Campbells had 
gone into the service of the duke, and one was 
sick, leaving only three majority on the side of the 
Campbells. 

James Macgregor proposed that three of the 
Campbells should stand aside as spectators of the 
combat, thus rendering the number equal. This 
proposition met with universal favor. But none 
were willing to be set aside. All wanted to be in 
the fray. In this dilemma they resolved to decide 
the matter by lot. The lots were accordingly 
drawn, the spot where, and the day on which, the 
contest was to take place decided upon. 


112 


A STOUT HEART. 


The leaders on both sides now occupied the inten 
vening period in drilling their men for the decisive 
conflict, in which both parties felt the greatest 
interest. James Macgregor, profiting by the vast 
amount of traditional lore he had obtained from 
listening to the recitals of his grandfather, told his 
companions that a large portion of the lands now 
occupied by the Campbells formerly belonged to 
the Macgregors, and that the former, never able to 
cope with the Macgregors in fair fight, had, by the 
assistance of the government and by fraud, dispos- 
sessed them of their territory ; that, notwithstand- 
ing the friendship they at times professed, they 
would gladly have extirpated the whole clan of 
Macgregor, if it had been possible. James then 
took his comrades into the spence, or best room of 
the cot, showed them the arms on the wall, related 
the history of the old chieftains who had wielded 
them, reminded his comrades that they, in common 
with all the Macgregors, were a king’s clan, de- 
scended from Kenneth Macalpin, exhorted them 
to put a bunch of pine in their bonnets, as the 
badge of their clan, and not suffer themselves to 
be beaten by the cowardly Campbells, whom their 
forefathers had never feared to meet, however su- 
perior in numbers, and thus excited his command 
to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. 

It is also probable that the leader of the clan 
Campbell was not slack in efforts of a similar kind, 
by which he endeavored to arouse the martial 
ardor of his clan. 


The Clan Fight. Page 113. 







THE CLAN FIGHT. 


113 


The eventful day arrived at length, and the com- 
batants appeared upon the ground, led by their 
chiefs, and accompanied by Sandie Macgregor, 
whom they had prevailed upon to furnish them 
with music of a general character, and, in order 
that the greatest impartiality might be observed, 
to play nothing peculiarly personal or inspiriting, 
by reason of old associations, to the feelings of 
either party. 

The evening preceding the day of combat, James 
Macgregor had assembled his clan in a lonely nook 
of the hills, and made them swear upon a real dirk 
that he had borrowed from his grandfather, that 
they would never give ground to the Campbells as 
long as one of them could lift his weapon or stand 
upon his feet. 

The chieftains now gave the word Claymore ; 
Sandie sounded the charge ; the combatants, rusb 
ing forward with fierce yells, snapped their wooden 
guns in the faces of their foes, flung them down, 
and fell to. 

Dire was the crash. Swords and dirks broke 
and splintered upon targets, the remnants flew 
above the heads of the combatants, and many a 
severe bruise and thrust was received by those 
who failed to parry the blows of their antagonists, 
for the sharp and hardened points of the seasoned 
weapons readily pierced the flesh. 

Whether it was owing to the indomitable fight- 
ing qualities inherent in the Macgregor blood, or 
8 


114 


A STOUT HEART. 


that, by reason of the traditional associations in 
which he had been baptized, James Macgregor was 
able to inspire his followers with his own lofty en- 
thusiasm and determination to conquei', certain it 
is that they went through the ranks of their antag- 
onists like a whirlwind, and hurled them back a 
long distance. The chief of the Campbells was 
run through the arm with a dirk that broke in the 
wound, was brought to his knees, and had his 
scalp skinned by a glancing stroke from a wooden 
sword, while Jamie, by reason of the excellent drill 
he had received from his grandparent, and assiduous 
practice, had thus far escaped without a scratch. 

In the mean while the three Campbells who, ac- 
cording to agreement, were to remain spectators 
of the contest, beholding their comrades worsted, 
and becoming more and more excited at the pros- 
pect of their entire defeat, unable to restrain them- 
selves, plunged at once into the fray. 

This act of theirs, however, so far from accom- 
plishing the purpose they expected, and discour- 
aging their opponents, only transported them with 
greater fury, determination to conquer, and stirred 
to its depths that spirit of vengeance that then 
seemed an inherent property of the Macgregor 
blood. 

That’s just like the thievish Campbells ! ” shout- 
ed Jamie. Sin they keep na rules, we’ll keep nane.” 
And, catching up part of a broken oar that chanced 
to lie upon the ground, he levelled two of his foes. 


THE CLAN FIGHT. 


115 


The sound of the pipes, the shouts of those en- 
gaged, excited Sandie also, carrying him back in 
memory to the days of his youth, reviving all his 
boyish and clannish feelings, and, despite of the 
compact to play nothing calculated to aid or inspirit 
one side more than the other, he so resented the 
mean act of the Campbells as to make the hills ring 
with the Slogan of the Macgregors.’^ 

This stirring air, associated with all they had 
ever heard of bloody conflict, so excited the Mac- 
gregors that they began to maul their foes over 
head and ears with the targets, as more effective 
weapons, their dirks and swords having become 
broken, while the Campbells took up stones. Se- 
vere wounds were inflicted, blood flowed in 
streams, and the contest became dangerous. 


116 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER XII. 

TRroMPH OF THE MACGREGORS. 

UST as the fray began to assume this deadly 



O complexion, it was, most fortunately, inter- 
rupted by the sudden appearance of Allan Mac- 
gregor, holding in his hand the birch withe that 
served the purpose of a “ painter to his boat, and 
with which he laid about him right lustily, bestow- 
ing his thwacks without the least partiality upon 
both Campbells and Macgregors. 

Hoot awa, ye by’ke o’ idle limmers I ” he ex- 
claimed, between the blows. “ Canna folk dee 
fast eneuch, but ye maun fall to murderin’ ane 
anither ? ” 

The parties to this fierce strife all took to their 
heels, with the exception of Sandie; and Allan 
now turned to upbraid him in no measured terms. 

Ye auld blastie sinner,” he cried, “ are ye na 
ashamed o’ yersel’, sittin’ here to stir up the bairns 
to break ane anither’s heads and the peace o’ the 
country? Dinna ye ken you’re in danger o’ bein’ 
hanged, an’ that the auld times o’ cuttin’ thrapples 
an’ bluidshed are all gane by, an’ it’s a new warld ? 


TRIUMPH OF THE MACGREGORS. 


117 


I hae just eneuch wi' my ain father — God forgie 
me that I s^uld say sae — fillin’ the bairns’ heads 
fu’ o’ the auld doin’s, but ye maun needs start up, 
like a imp frae the bottomless pit, to blaw the brith 
o’ Satan into them wi’ your pipes ! Here we are 
amang a fawsont people, and weel thought on, an’ 
ye wad set the lads to break each ither’s heads, 
and make ill will amang the neighbors. If ye were 
na sae auld, I wad be sair tempted to gie ye a taste 
o’ the birk.” 

Sandie, suflSciently mortified, professed sorrow 
for aiding and abetting, explained to Allan that 
the fight was none of his getting up, and that he 
merely attended to humor the bairns — was car- 
ried away by an impulse to play the slogan of the 
Macgregors ; and Allan, placable as hasty in his 
temper, was soon mollified. 

Jarmie kept out of his father’s sight for the re- 
mainder of the day, but going straightway to his 
grandfather, told him the whole story. 

An’ ye are sure the Campbells had the waur 
o’ it, an’ ye gie them a threshin’ ? ” said Angus. 

Ay, grandpa. When my father parted us. Bob 
Campbell had a dirk through his right hand, three 
teeth knocked out, and his ankle sprained ; an’ they 
hid amang the rocks.” 

Ye’re a brave bairn, an’ hae shown what bluid 
ye sprang frae. I maun sae, Allan had little to do 
to part ye in the moment o’ victory. Ay, thae are 
not like the braw auld times I hae heard tell o’, 


118 


A STOUT HEART. 


before the law came into the Highlands, when 
every man held his ain by the edge of the clay- 
more ; but now the gude blade rusts in the scab- 
bard, an’ some wizened, smoke-dried writer, wi’ his 
pen and ink-horn, cocks his bonnet i’ the face o’ a 
mon wad cleave him to the brisket wi’ a stroke o’ 
the broadsword, were it na for the law that hands 
his ban’s. A mon will let anither spit i’ his face 
for a bawbee ; an’ a chiel sax feet tall, wi’ an arm 
like-»«in aik limb, gaes about wi’ his beard fu’ o’ 
weaver’s thrums, and thinks it mair honor to dee 
in a bed like an auld wife, than on the field wi’ the 
broadsword in his grip and the pibroch skirlin’ i’ 
his lug.” 

The disastrous consequences Allan had antici- 
pated from the conduct of Sandie, and the severity 
of the contest, did not follow, neither were the 
feelings of the parents on either side enlisted ; for, 
when they ascertained what Allan had done, and 
his reproof of Sandie, they compelled the boys to 
burn up their weapons, and thus broke up the 
whole thing. 

It is worthy of note that, although the proscrip- 
tion of the Highland dress by the English govern- 
ment, after the battle of Culloden, was received 
with tears and execrations, yet, when the prohibi- 
tion was taken off, it did not become, as before, the 
universal garb. A whole generation had grown up 
and become accustomed to the Lowland dress ; and 
though, when the law was first repealed, there was 


TRIUMPH OF THE MACGREGORS. 


119 


some excitement, and a partial return to old cus- 
toms, it was neither permanent nor universal ; al- 
though, as a military garb, it still is, with some 
alterations, worn by Highland regiments in the 
British service, the two nations having, in the pro- 
cess of years, and through the influences of educa- 
tion, business relations, and social connections, 
become united in feelings and sympathies, and the 
old prejudices having died out with the causes that 
gave them birth. 

A great change now came over the spirit of 
Jamie Macgregor. Hitherto he had lived in an 
ideal world, peopled with beings of his own fancy. 
With all the avidity of boyish curiosity he had lis- 
tened to the stories of his grandfather, revelled 
entranced among the traditions of the past, gazed 
with mingled awe and admiration upon the old 
swords and dirks that had borne their part on 
many a bloody field, wandered, in his tartan, over 
the scenes of ancient conflicts and among the sepul- 
chres of the mighty dead, by mountain torrents that 
had once run red with blood, till his youthful fancy 
was tinged, and his expanding faculties thoroughly 
embrocated, with the very spirit of that stern old 
man upon whose knees he sat and to whose words 
he listened. 

The sharp, decisive act of his father, however, 
and the tingle of the birch withe, produced a rude, 
though salutary awakening. Allan — his time and 
attention constantly occupied in the struggle for 


120 


A STOUT HEART. 


bread, and whose early love for labor upon the soil, 
stimulated by the opportunity now afforded for its 
gratification, and the necessity of providing for the 
support of those he loved, had revived with ten- 
fold force — had paid very little attention to the 
military manoeuvres, and was entirely ignorant of 
the effect produced upon the mind of his son by 
the society of Angus, who, receiving little sympa- 
thy from Allan in respect to his peculiar notions, 
poured his sentiments and prejudices without stint 
into the eager ear of his grandson. 

But the eyes of the parent were thoroughly 
opened by this last act of the boys, in which he 
perceived clearly enough that Jamie was the mas- 
ter-spirit ; and it gave him no little concern. 

Allan Macgregor, though uneducated, was by no 
means an ignorant man ; on the contrary, his abili- 
ties were of the first order. During his life as a 
soldier in different countries, he had enjoyed many 
opportunities for observation, been brought in con- 
tact with persons in every rank of life, and into 
intimate relations with comrades who had received 
the advantages of education, was a Protestant in 
sentiment, somewhat familiar with the Scriptures 
from hearing them read and expounded by the 
French Huguenots, fully appreciated the value 
of knowledge, lamented his own lack of it, and 
was firmly attached to the family then on the 
throne. 

Angus, on the other hand, was, though not 


TRIUMPH OF THE MACGREGORS. 


121 


bigoted, a Catholic in belief, and a rank Jacobite, 
esteemed the government then existing a usurpa- 
tion, the union of Scotland 'with England slavery 
on the part of the former, and despised all knowl- 
edge except that which pertained to arms. 

Allan Macgregor never opened his lips to his son 
in regard to his share in the late contest, or even 
required him — as did all the other parents their 
sons — to destroy his weapons. He meditated 
both a more radical, and at the same time more 
genial, course, and suffered ten days to pass away 
without question or comment concerning a matter 
that furnished abundant food for gossip in the 
neighborhood. 

At the expiration of that period, however, he 
went on a hunting excursion among the hills, 
taking Jamie with him, and, sitting down among 
the heather, talked over the affair. 

After they had partaken of their noontide re- 
past, Allan, going back to those events of his own 
boyhood with which our readers are already ac- 
quainted, occupied the entire afternoon and even- 
ing in explaining to Jamie the mode of life in the 
Highlands when the native chiefs bore rule, and 
even before the union of the two crowns of Eng- 
land and Scotland. He stripped the relations of 
his father of all their imaginary hues, and caused 
the boy, now of an age to reflect, to realize that those 
times could never return, neither was it desirable 
they should ; that the glories described by Angus 


122 


A STOUT HEART. 


were mere moonshine in the water, and the braw 
auld times,” so lauded by him, days of poverty, 
bloodshed, misery, and the oppression of the weak 
by the strong ; when no man could be safe in the 
possession of property that another was able to 
wrest from him ; that the present state of society 
was infinitely superior to the rule of the Highland 
chieftains, when the plough must be left in the 
furrow, the dead unburied, and the bride at the 
altar, what time the fiery cross went through the 
glens summoning to arms. 

These considerations, presented by a parent 
whom he respected and loved, made a deep and 
permanent impression upon the ripening mind of 
Jamie, and furnished food for reflection, while the 
more he reflected the more their truth became ap- 
parent, until the tissue of the dream-robe in which 
fancy had arrayed the past, dissolved like the fleet- 
ing colors of the rainbow. 

A few days after this conversation, Jamie burned 
his target and other arms ; and Allan, being in- 
formed of this by his mother, invited the boy to 
fence with him, in order to show him that he 
valued military skill as highly as ever, but as a 
means of self-defence and the protection of just 
principles, and not as an instrument of oppression 
or obtaining renown. Satisfied with the impres- 
sion he felt was produced, he did not discourage 
the visits of San die, but permitted him to play any- 
thing he pleased, and as much as he pleased. 


TMUMPH OF THE MACGREGORS. 


123 


The observant mother now noticed an alteration 
in the habits and conduct of Jamie, which occa- 
sioned her no little surprise and anxiety. The boy 
was as affectionate and industrious as aforetime, 
but his natural vivacity and impetuosity of tem- 
perament seemed to have fled. Everything his 
parents told him to do, he did readily and with ap- 
parent willingness, but set about it as a duty, with- 
out the least manifestation of interest in any one 
thing. 

He was often among the hills alone, as hereto- 
fore ; but, instead of promenading the braes arrayed 
in his tartan and with weapons at his side (for 
on those occasions he had been wont to arm him- 
self with weapons belonging to his grandfather), 
and imagining himself some chief renowned in 
story, he seldom wore the plaid now, but, wander- 
ing away in his working clothes, would lie for 
hours beneath the shadow of a tree, on the bare 
mountain summit, or the banks of a water-course, 
with one hand hanging in the stream, buried in 
reverie — a state of mind to which boys are by no 
means prone. His grandfather complained that 
Jamie did not seek his company, and his sisters 
that he cared not for their society ; neither did he 
incline to that of the boys whose recognized leader 
he had been. 

These indications did not escape the watchful 
eye of the mother, and she mentioned the matter 
to his father, who replied, that “ the lad was kind 


124 


A STOUT HEART. 


of dozent, missing his daffin, and wad come round 
after a bit.’^ 

Indeed, the ardent temperament of the boy was 
in a state of temporary collapse. His innate thirst 
for knowledge and intellectual effort had found 
scope and gratification in the stories of his grand- 
father, that not only gratified curiosity and fed the 
imagination, but also contained a vast deal of his- 
torical knowledge, mixed with fable, and to him 
they had all the force of reality. But the con- 
versation with his father had broken the spell, 
caused the glorious phantom to disappear, and, in 
doubt and disappointment, he could only gaze upon 
the sombre cloud that forever concealed it from 
his view. 

He was tortured with a thirst for knowledge 
without the means of gratifying it ; yearnings 
whose nature he could not interpret; a longing 
— at times amounting to anguish — for something; 
but what that something might be he could not 
divine ; and there was no one to inform him. In 
this moody and unsatisfactory state of mind, he 
performed mechanically the tasks given him, wan- 
dered unaccompanied among the hills, and often 
slept in the heather, while the voice of winds, 
the song of birds, and the murmur of the streams, 
all were tinged by the dark cloud that had so sud- 
denly flung its shadow over him. 

It has been said that the statue lies concealed 
in the marble, and the artist only clears away the 


TRIUMPH OP THE MACGREGORS. 


125 


rubbish that covers it.’' Thus the throes of a new 
life were stirring in the mind of this Highland 
laddie, striving to stifle the aimless longings within 
him by performing uncongenial tasks ; but there 
was no artist to clear away the rubbish ” and set 
the imprisoned spirit at liberty. 


126 


A STOUT HEAfiT. 


CHAPTER Xm. 

THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 

N O people appreciate more fully the value of 
knowledge and the advantages of education, 
both for themselves and their children, than the in- 
habitants of the Lowlands of Scotland ; while the 
Highlanders, separated from the former by the in- 
accessible nature of their country, and in a con- 
stant state of hostility with them, remained in a 
condition of comparative ignorance and ferocity 
long after schools were established throughout the 
length and breadth of the Lowlands. Some few 
of the sons of the chiefs and principal men of the 
clans were sent to these schools, and thus obtained 
some inklings of knowledge and polish of manners. 

The kirk of Scotland, with most commendable 
zeal, very early made strenuous exertions for the 
diffusion both of secular and religious knowledge 
in the Highlands ; but the obstacles were many, 
and the progress exceeding slow. When, after the 
battle of Culloden, the Highlanders became ame- 
nable to the civil law, and the power of the chiefs 
was, in a great measure, abolished, many difficulties 


THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 


127 


still remained to be overcome. The latter, finding 
they could no longer make use of their vassals in 
war, and maintain them by plunder, turned their 
lands into pasture for cattle and sheep, leaving the 
native inhabitants to shift for themselves, multi- 
tudes of whom, being forced to emigrate, left the 
country thinly tenanted by a population widely 
scattered. Of those remaining, many were fre- 
quently changing their places of abode, resorting 
at different periods of the year to the sea-coast, to 
engage in the herring fishery, or to the Lowlands, 
in order to obtain work in hay-making and har- 
vest. Some of the Highland parishes were from 
forty to sixty miles in length, by twenty or thir- 
ty in breadth. 

Such were some of the obstacles attending tke 
diffusion of knowledge ; add to which the extreme 
poverty, ignorance, and prejudices of the people, 
and it is easy to perceive that, notwithstanding the 
efforts made, and the success which attended them, 
for the most part, there remained, at the date of 
our story, many nooks in the Highlands, whose 
inhabitants, either from necessity or choice, lived 
and died in ignorance, like their ancestors. 

Jamie and his sisters had pulled the flax, put it 
to steep in the burn (brook), and were now busily 
at work, every pleasant day, bringing home the 
peat for winter fuel on the backs of two Highland 
shelties. This was ever a time of frolic with the 
children. Although the digging and piling them 


128 


A STOUT HEART. 


up to dry was laborious and dirty work, they were 
now light and easily handled. 

These peats are not mud or grass-sod, as some 
of our readers might suppose, from their being 
often called turf, but composed, to a great extent, 
of vegetable matter, resulting from the decay of 
forests, and full of thread-like roots that penetrate 
the mass and bind it together. This peat is cut 
out of the bogs in cakes, shaped like bricks, with a 
spade made for the purpose, and piled up in tiers 
to dry, when it makes a hot tire without much 
flame, and emits a pungent smoke. 

Rare times these little folks had of it drawing 
turf. They roasted eggs and turnips; Jamie killed 
a moor hen, or caught a flsh in the brook. The 
mother also furnished them with ewe-milk cheese 
and nice Loch Fyne herrings, and a lump of butter, 
of which they ate little enough at other times, 
since it mostly went to pay the rent ; and for drink, 
beer brewed from heather and some other ingre- 
dients, the names of which the good wife kept as 
a secret. 

But the day of all days to these affectionate chil- 
dren was that on which their mother took her 
work and went with them in the morning, and 
their father and grandfather came to supper early 
in the afternoon. When the men folks came in 
the afternoon, they found the repast placed upon 
a table of turf and stones, beneath a canopy made 
by sticking small birch trees in the ground, and 


THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 


129 


weaving the tops together. The table itself could 
not be seen, it was so entirely covered with wild 
flowers and oak leaves ; and there were fowl and 
fish, roasted potatoes, barley loaf, butter, and 
cheese ; and the mother was expected to say, and 
did say, ‘‘ that she had nae lifted her hand to do 
onything. It was a’ the bairns’ wark, an’ she was 
just company.” 

The children led the ponies when taking the 
turf to the house ; but returning, they rode, James 
on one horse, the two girls on the other. The 
bridles were made of willow withes, and the sad- 
dles were a large piece of turf. 

The Highlanders find in the bogs whole trunks 
of fir trees, the heart of which is saturated with 
turpentine, and burns freely. This they split up 
and use in their cots in lieu of candles. 

When the turf was all drawn, they busied them- 
selves, and concluded their labors, by bringing 
home a large quantity of this bog fir, that their 
father had prepared by splitting into thin slips. 

This season, usually so joyous, restored Jamie to 
somewhat of his wonted cheerfulness ; still a shade 
of unrest and sadness sat upon his brow, and he 
did not abandon himself, as heretofore, to the spirit 
of the occasion. 

Their labors were now completed, the parents 
and grandparent summoned to view the great pile 
of fuel that was to make the fireside cheerful 
through the winter, and the shelties, in considera- 
9 


130 


A STOUT HEART. 


tion of their good behavior, were set at liberty, 
after receiving a bountiful share of the children’s 
barley cake. 

Although it was but the middle of the afternoon, 
the family sat down to an early supper, the remaim 
der of the day being devoted to recreation ; Angus 
and Allan having promised to tell the children 
some stories about matters in France, that were 
entirely new, had never been told before, and about 
fighting in the Low Countries, the mode of life 
among the people there, and how the Highlanders 
wanted to kill the Duke of Cumberland, in revenge 
for his cruelty, after the fight at Culloden. 

They were all seated at the table, congratulat- 
ing each other upon the abundant stock of fuel 
for the winter, each of the children boasting of his 
or her contribution to the heap ; and then all the 
rest of the family fell to extolling the mother. 

The crops that year, with the exception of the 
oats, had been pinched, and yielded poorly, while 
the latter were so excellent that Allan determined 
to reap instead of mowing them. But neither he 
nor his father could handle the sickle. They were 
far better skilled in handling the broadsword and 
reaping the bloody harvests of the battle-field ; and 
he could ill afiPord to hire it done. In this exigen- 
cy, Alice, leaving the girls to do the work of the 
house, took the sickle and reaped the oats ; and it 
was the unanimous opinion of the family that never 
was a field of grain reaped cleaner or quicker. 


THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 


131 


This was not all. She took Jamie into the field 
with her, taught him to handle the sickle, and to 
make bands, and tie up the grain. Alice had 
learned to reap while at service in the Lowlands ; 
and that knowledge was now of great use. She 
had no occasion to repeat the act, as Jamie the 
next year was able to cut the grain. 

They were surprised, while thus chatting and 
having the best time imaginable, by the exclama- 
tion, — 

“ God save all here I ” 

Looking up, they perceived standing in the door, 
that had been left wide open, a stranger in the 
dress worn at that period by the clergy of the kirk 
of Scotland. Allan cordially responded to the sal- 
utation, and, placing a stool in readiness, invited 
him to sit down with them, saying, — 

“Ye seem, sir, to be sair for foughten wi^ your 
travail. Winna ye hae a moufu^ o’ our fare? It’s 
nae that gude, but ye’re richt welcome.” 

“ I thank you, kindly,” replied the visitor ; “ but 
I’ll rest a bit, and take a drink of water, before I 
break my fast, for I find myself, as you say, quite 
weary. The journey has been longer than I an- 
ticipated.” 

Alice embraced the opportunity to spread upon 
the table a snow-white cloth of fine linen, her own 
manufacture, and add to the provisions such sim- 
ple delicacies as she possessed. The minister, 
having given his name, and been introduced by 


132 


A STOUT HEART. 


Allan to his wifip and father, now partook of the 
repast provided for him. He was, apparently, be- 
tween thirty-five and forty years of age, with a 
face and heartiness of manner that inspired confi- 
dence and betokened great sincerity, while in his 
conversation there was a curious mingling of a cer- 
tain homeliness of expression with precision, as 
though the one was natural and the other acquired 
by culture. 

He informed his host that he officiated at a 
church some twenty miles away, among the hills, 
where he had been settled about two years. He 
likewise stated that the former incumbent had for 
many years been incapacitated by ill health from 
visiting his people, except to a very limited extent, 
and that, being informed there were people living 
somewhere among the hills and on the borders of 
the loch, he had set out in the morning, taking a 
bite with him, resolved to find them out and make 
their acquaintance. 

The general assembly, well aware of the preju- 
dices of the Highlanders against the inhabitants 
of the Lowlands, had exerted their influence to 
place in this location a man of Highland extrac- 
tion, Andrew Stewart being descended from the 
clan Stewart, and who, familiar with all the tra- 
ditions and customs of his race, was a devoted 
man of God. He entered the smoky cots of the 
Highlanders, sympathized with them in their trials, 
undertook long journeys on foot, or on the back of 


THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 


133 


a Highland shelty, in order to reach them, and thus 
won the entire confidence and afiection of those 
simple-hearted people. 

He was very favorably impressed with the ven- 
erable appearance of Angus Macgregor, the polite- 
ness and ease of manners manifested by both father 
and son, and the intelligence and knowledge of the 
world evinced by their conversation; and his 
heart warmed to the tartan, in which men of such 
stalwart forms appeared to great advantage, and 
which he seldom met with in full, except upon the 
persons of some aged people who had resumed the 
ancient garb since the repeal of the prohibition. 

You have lived to a great age,’^ he said to 
Angus. 

“ Ay, I hae lived lang, too lang. I hae ootlived 
the gude auld days : your name fa^s kindly on my 
lug. I hae upheld it wi' my bluid an’ the bluid o’ 
my kin.” 

“ Then you fought at Culloden, and so did my 
ancestors.” 

I ken that richt weel ; and a gallant clan they 
were. It was a black day for puir auld Scotland 
when her richtfu’ king was hunted like a tod or 
brock amang his ain hills, an’ the law, an’ the 
breeks, an’ writer chiels, an’ ilka new fashion came 
into the Highlands, an’ auld an’ honorable names 
trodden under foot.” 

1 perceive you and your son have gone back 
to the tartan ; and a gallant dress it is.” 


134 


A STOUT HEART. 


“ Gaen back — is it? We niver gaed awa’ 
frae it.’’ 

“ How could you wear it here, and escape the 
penalty which was so severe ? ” 

“We took to the rocks, an’ lived by the clay- 
more till the law won upo’ us, when we gaed awa’ 
to France. May a curse fa’ upo’ the haverel wha 
wad pit aflp the claes kings hae worn for Sassenach 
duds, an’ howk in a ditch wi’ ither swine, while 
the braidsword rusts i’ the scabbard.” 

The minister, well aware of the prejudices of 
the older Highlanders in respect to the reigning 
sovereign, the changes that had been introduced, 
and their contempt both of farm labor and all me- 
chanical employments, made no reply. Allan has- 
tened to turn the conversation into a different 
channel, while Angus, ashamed of his momentary 
irritation, and fearing he had been rude to a guest, 
— no slight offence in the eyes ot a Highlander, — 
rose and left the room. 


THE SOLUTION. 


135 


CHAPTER XIY. 


THE SOLUTION. 


FTER his father's exit, Allan Macgregor made 



Mr. Stewart somewhat acquainted with their 
history, and informed him that, while his father 
professed the Roman Catholic faith, he (Allan) was 
Protestant in principle, although he had never en- 
tered a church in Scotland, having left the country 
while a youth, but was in the habit, while in 
France, of attending Protestant meetings held by 
the Huguenots ; that since his return, he might 
have done so occasionally; but the church was 
far away, the people strangers, he felt he should, 
in his tartan, — and a stranger withal, — be an 
object of curiosity, and shrank from going, though 
he strove to do what was right, and deal justly 
with all men. 

If you do not attend service," replied the min- 
ister, “ you at least have the Word, and, I trust, 
read it, strive to keep the Sabbath day holy, and 
pray to God." 

The Word wad be o' sma' use till us, gin we 
had it, sin' we canna read." 


136 


A STOUT HEART. 


Cannot read ? Cannot any of you read ? 

‘‘ Ye hae the richt o’t. Ye ken weel what the 
Macgregors mioht be lang syne ; weVe jist wild 
Macgregors, — my father an^ myseP, — wha grew 
up in the dour days o’ bluidshed, when the han’ 
maun keep the head ; an’ we’re baith too old to 
mend. But whiles it gars me doonharted when I 
think o’ the bairns.” 

“ But is there no school for the children ? ” 

“ Nae.” 

Mr. Stewart was deeply moved to find such utter 
ignorance of letters among persons evidently pos- 
sessed of excellent natural abilities, and the father, 
at least, well aware of the value of knowledge, and, 
especially when he found, upon inquiry, that there 
were other families along the shores of the loch, 
and scattered through the glens, in the like condi- 
tion. After pondering a while upon the matter, he 
at length said, — 

“ As you cannot read yourselves, and are far 
from the kirk, perhaps you would like to have the 
Word of God read to you.” 

“We wad tak it richt kin’ o’ ye, sir.” 

Jamie listened to the reading as one entranced 
His eyes fastened upon Mr. Stewart’s face, and lips 
compressed, he scarcely breathed. But when the 
former, concluding, closed the book, losing all com- 
mand of himself, he rushed forward, and, clasping 
the minister’s knees, cried out, “ Hech, sir, 1 wad 


THE SOLUTION. 


137 


fin^ out hoo to read ! Cauna I fin^ out hoo to 
read ? ” and burst into tears. 

Those words interpreted the aimless yearnings 
that had so long struggled for expression, and in 
those hot tears the emotions begotten of them 
found vent. Mr. Stewart gazed with mingled sur- 
prise and admiration upon the boy, and, drawing 
him closer, said, — 

Yes, my bairn, you can and shall learn to read. 
I’ll teach you myself, and begin to-night. Your 
father can buy you a book at the store when he 
goes to market ; you can walk over to my house on 
Saturdays, and spend the Sabbath. I will give you 
a lesson and hear you recite.” 

Allan thanked the minister for his kindness, 
while Jamie, drying his tears, — of which he felt 
quite ashamed, — inquired what a book was. 

This is a book,” said the minister, holding 
open the Testament from which he had been 
reading. Not such a one as you need ; but I 
can make shift with it for the time.” 

What be the black things in rows ? ” 

Letters and words.” 

They look like sheep tracks.” 

The minister, picking out different letters of the 
alphabet, told James the names of them ; he then, 
turning to the Epistle of James, and pointing to 
the first word of the first verse, said, — 

“ There, my bairn, are the same letters you 


138 


A STOUT HEART. 


have seen, and they spell your name,^’ and told 
Jamie to repeat the letters after him. 

As he saw the excessive eagerness of the boy, 
who trembled with excitement, and knew it might 
be some time before his father could procure him 
a book, he set himself to devise some method of 
aiding the lad in the mean while. He had with 
him no paper or writing materials, and was sorely 
puzzled. At length, noticing upon the floor, in a 
corner, some cooper’s tools and a lump of chalk, he 
asked Allan if he could not plane him a piece of 
board, that he could chalk on it. There was not a 
bit of board about the premises, the door of the 
cot, even, being made of wicker. Alice proposed 
the bottoms of her tubs and milk-pails. But it was 
necessary to have something not in constant use. 
Jamie now bethought himself of the old boat, that 
was flat-bottomed, and not worth repairing ; and 
she was soon torn in pieces. 

The inside of her bottom was foul with pitch 
and dirt, but the outside was white and weather- 
worn. This Allan cut into short lengths, and ran 
the plane over them. Upon these Mr. Stewart 
printed with chalk the letters of the alphabet, a 
number of syllables, and some words of two syl- 
lables, and, sitting down with Jamie, taught them 
to him during the evening, and again the next 
morning. He then went among the neighbors, 
promising to return at night. 

In two days James, besides learning his letters 


Jamie’s Early Education. Page 138. 













THE SOLUTION. 


139 


and a b, abs, from the boards, took the planks of 
the boat that were crooked, laid them on a flat 
ledge, poured hot water over and piled stones upon 
them, keeping them thus in press till they were 
straight in one direction. He then scraped the 
pitch off that had become brittle by age and the 
weather, cut them up, and planed them. Upon 
these Mr. Stewart printed advance lessons, while 
Jamie dignifled the collection with the name of 
his bookj boring holes in the leaves, and fastening 
them together with a string. 

When the former took his leave, he requested 
Allan to permit James to come to the manse when- 
ever he obtained his spelling-book, and he would 
give him such instruction as would enable him to 
go on by himself for some time, and till he should 
make them another visit. 

His teacher had by this time discovered that 
the lad possessed superior abilities, and also the 
great difference between the progress of a boy 
at his age. whose whole being was absorbed in 
the desire to learn, and that of a child, to whom 
study is a task, and who has little power of ap- 
plication. 

Jamie had now regained all his wonted cheer- 
fulness, taking interest in the labor of the farm, 
and improving every spare moment in the study 
of his wooden books, of which, thanks to the 
old boat, he had now quite a library. Having mas- 
tered the alphabet and the a b, abs, he was 


140 


A STOUT HEART. 


constantly employed in forming syllables and 
words. His sisters were almost equally inter- 
ested ; and the children spent hours on the 
beach, abandoning their usual plays to print 
in the sand with pointed sticks, and recite to 
each other, and learned to print without the 
least idea of the form of the characters used in 
writing. 


THE FIRST BOOK. 


141 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE FIRST BOOK. 

AMIE is all richt noo, Allan/^ said the gude- 



wife, “ an’ maun hae got what he’s been 
luikin’ for sae lan'g.” 

“ Pegs, woman ! that canna be. Hoo cud he be 
o’ the ootluik an’ whingin (fretting) for what he 
niver kent anything aboot? Gin one lose a sax- 
pence, he wad luik after that same ; gin he niver 
saw or had one, he cudna.” 

I canna tell. He seems quaiet an’ happy, just 
like ane that’s been near ban’ starved, an’ got a fu’ 
meal.” 

Heed, it’s the wonner o’ the buik an’ the min- 
ister’s coming, I wot weel, whan he was doon- 
herted aboot the brackin’ up o’ his plays. I wad 
sooner hae him wi’ his buik than brackin’ ither 
fowks’ heads, an’ listening to the auld sangs an’ 
tales o’ bluidshed.” 

The parents had but little conception of the 
workings of a mind so attempered as to be con- 
scious of a lack, and yearn for that knowledge 
which, when presented, is embraced at once as the 


142 


A STOUT HEART. 


long-sought boon, and whose genial influence satis- 
fies as sunlight the opening bud, or rain the thirsty 
furrows of the field. 

There was one exception to the universal satis- 
faction occasioned by this visit of the good pastor 
in search of the stray sheep of his fold. Angus 
Macgregor was by no means pleased with the new 
direction so suddenly given to the mind of his 
grandchildren. Although, influenced by the spirit 
of hospitality so strong in the breast of a High- 
lander, he had treated the minister with civility, 
and, to the utmost of his ability, refrained from 
expressing his own sentiments, he was by no 
means so reticent after his departure. The famil}', 
however, listened in respectful silence to the aged 
man, who, wedded to old ways, and incapable now 
of embracing new ideas, and cankered at times, 
was yet of a noble and kindly nature, and greatly 
respected and beloved, following, in the mean 
while, the light that had so suddenly dawned upon 
their path. 

Jamie, having now made all the progress possi- 
ble with the appliances at his disposal, and put the 
bottom of the old boat to a use certainly never 
contemplated by the builder, began to importune 
his father for the spelling-book. 

Allan Macgregor had for some time been collect- 
ing articles of one kind and another to sell for cash, 
in anticipation of the approaching rent-day, and, 
somewhat hastened in his preparations by the 


THE FIRST BOOK. 


143 


prayers of Jamie, who had enlisted the influence 
of the mother in his behalf, began to load the boat 
— a large one he had borrowed — with an assorted 
cargo. 

There were a great many different articles, 
though the amount of each kind was not great; 
and we are sorry to say that those least valuable 
were the most abundant — wool, linen cloth, eggs, 
honey, butter, barley, oats, beeswax, smoked her- 
rings, feathers, stockfish, and kelp or soda ash. 
This latter is manufactured by burning the sea- 
weed to ashes in a trench dug in the ground and 
lined with stone, after which a cake remains so 
hard as to need breaking up with crowbars. It is 
composed of potash and soda, used in bleaching, 
and the manufacture of plate glass and hard soaps. 
In addition to this were knitting-work and other 
small articles, made by Alice and the girls, to- 
gether with baskets, wooden spoons and trays. 
The black cattle and sheep were driven to market 
and sold on the foot. 

They were to start at daybreak ; but Jamie was 
up four or five times in the course of the night, 
and then, worn out, slept so soundly that his father 
was obliged to rouse him. 

Mr. Stewart had written with chalk, on a thin 
piece of board, the title of the book required, 
which upon arriving at the store, Allan handed 
to the bookseller. It was with the greatest diffi- 
culty Jamie restrained himself in the presence of 


144 


A STOUT HEART. 


the dealer, but, the moment he was in the street, 
hugged the book to his bosom, and, with all possi- 
ble speed, made his way to the boat, where he 
gave himself up to the perusal of it. Indeed, it 
was well nigh the innocent occasion of their being 
drowned when within a mile of home. 

Gusts of wind often strike down suddenly, with 
great fury, from the hills into the Highland lochs. 
It was a breezy day, and Allan set Jamie to hold 
the fore-sheet in his hand, having but a single turn 
around the cavil, in order that he might let it fly 
the instant the flaw struck. Now, Jamie had his 
book in his lap, and could not forbear peeping into 
it occasionally, while he held the sheet with one 
hand. At length he saw something that interested 
him wonderfully, and ventured to make fast the 
sheet. While absorbed in his book, the squall struck, 
and before he could cast off the rope the boat’s lee 
gunwale was under water. She righted slowly, 
shaking herself like a Newfoundland dog, but had 
shipped a couple of barrels of water, wetting some 
salt Allan had bought, and some sugar. Jamie in- 
curred the severest reprimand he had ever had 
from his father, and would, probably, have received 
a more lasting reminder of his carelessness, had 
not the attention of his parent been fully occupied 
with the boat. 

Jamie now made his way to the manse, where he 
remained three days, and brought back with him 
a writing-book Mr. Stewart had extemporized by 


THE FIRST BOOK. 


145 


sewing together several sheets of paper, and with 
copies set in it, likewise ink and a lot of pens. In 
the opinion of Jamie, his writing-book and the pens 
that Mr. Stewart had made for and instructed him 
to hold, were too precious to be inconsiderately 
used, and, with true Scotch caution, he proposed 
to make the most of his treasure. 

Wiping the chalk from his boards, — now super- 
seded by the spelling-book, — with a burned stick 
cut to the length of a pen, and held in the same 
manner, he wrote upon them till they were all 
written over, then resorted to the sand, as before, 
until he had gone through the whole book, and 
made himself familiar with the forms of all the let- 
ters. He then, before attempting to write in the 
book, wrote the copy he proposed to follow at any 
particular time first upon the boards or the sand. 

At the base of the high cliff's that broke off the 
wind were some sheltered spots. The rocks and 
sand, heated by the sun through the day, parted 
but slowly with their latent heat, and emitted a 
warmth grateful to the bare knees and feet of the 
children. Here, whenever released from toil, they 
might be found pursuing knowledge under diffi- 
culties. 

One of the girls would spread her apron on the 
sand, on which the writing-book was laid, with a 
clean stone on the leaves, and Jamie, on his knees 
before it, with his sisters on either side, followed 

10 


146 


A STOUT HEART. 


the copy with a stick, moving backwards after 
each line. 

At times they would become so interested that 
they could not hear their mother shouting to them 
from the top of the cliff to come to dinner, till the 
good woman, provoked, would sometimes call their 
attention by a stick laid over their backs. 

Some allowance must, however, be made in favor 
of the children, seeing that a mountain brook, white 
with foam, came tumbling and roaring through a 
cleft in the rocks close by, and, doubtless, had some 
effect in drowning the mother’s voice. Here they 
had spelling-schools, the one who spelt the most 
words having as reward three spoonfuls of honey. 

0, how Jamie wished he had nothing else to do 
but learn to read and write, and had an armful of 
pens, a pile of paper like the peat-stack, and his 
mother’s brewing-tub full of ink 1 


DEATH OF ANGUS. 


147 


CHAPTER XYI. 


DEATH OF ANGUS. 


NGUS MACGREGOR began now to manifest 



the decay, not so much of his physical as 
mental powers. He would put on his armor, though 
ill able to sustain the weight of the heavy broad- 
sword and the target, and wander away among the 
hills, where he would be found sitting upon a rock 
or the roots of a tree, talking to himself. At other 
times he would call for his sons who were slain at 
Culloden, and talk to them as though they were 
present, and wake the whole family in the night 
with shouts, imagining himself leading men to bat- 
tle. One day the girls returned, after a long quest, 
saying they could not find their grandfather. Al- 
lan and Jamie, alarmed, renewed the search, long 
without success. At length they discovered him 
seated upon a fragment of rock, with his back and 
head resting against a perpendicular cliff, well nigh 
concealed by foliage that hung over him. His 
bonnet and target lay beside him on the rock, evi- 
dently put there by himself Allan took him by 
the hand. It was cold. He had passed away with- 
out a struggle. 


148 


A STOUT HEART. 


Mr. Stewart now paid them another visit, ex- 
pressed himself highly pleased with the progress 
made by Jamie, and gave him a multiplication table 
that he had written out, told him the names of the 
figures, showed him how, with nine digits and a 
cipher, he could make any possible number, and 
explained to him the fundamental principles of 
arithmetic. He then told Allan Macgregor if, in 
the course of six weeks, he would send Jamie to 
the manse, and let him take care of his horse and 
cattle and do the chores around the house, he 
would instruct him till he should make such prog- 
ress that he would not be ashamed to attend the 
parish school. 

It chanced, unfortunately for Allan, that, while 
anxious for the education of his children, and grate- 
ful for the opportunity presented, and desirous to 
improve it, he was never less able to meet the at- 
tendant expense. He had lost several sheep and 
lambs in the spring, and wool bore a low price ; so, 
also, did cattle. The catch of fish had been small, 
and, with the exception of oats, frost had injured 
the grain. 

Now, as Jamie was going to the manse, he must 
bring — so Mr. Stewart said — an arithmetic, slate 
and pencils, a reading-book, writing-book, quills, 
ink, and should have a knife, in order that he might 
learn to make his own pens. Then he must have a 
pair of shoes, — he could not go barefoot, or wear 
brogues, — breeches, and jacket, and dress like 


DEATH OF ANGUS. 


149 


Dther folks, for he shrank from appearing singular 
by wearing the entire Highland dress. But how 
to do this and pay the rent was the. question that 
was revolved in the minds of Allan and his wife, 
and looked at from every point of view. 

“ My fechtin days hae gane, I doubt, wife,” said 
Allan ; and he resolved to sell a pair of pistols, rich- 
ly ornamented, that he had brought from France. 
In this way, by pinching themselves and the other 
children in respect to clothes, trenching still farther 
upon the provisions saved for winter, — the girls 
declaring “ they wad live on water brose (meal 
and water), sae Jamie might gae decen' amang the 
gran’ fowk,” — they hoped to pay the rent, incur 
the additional expense, and not be left absolutely 
penniless in case of sickness or death. Having 
made his arrangements and collected his freight, 
Allan set out alone for market. 

If ever a man was possessed of a kind heart and 
generous and self-sacrificing spirit, that man was 
Allan Macgregor. But the old, turbulent blood 
was in his veins, and there were times when, hard 
bestead, pressed by poverty, and put to it to sup- 
ply the wants of his young family and pay his rent, 
the old fire would rekindle, and he would look at 
the arms, black from neglect, the broadsword glued 
to its scabbard with rust, and long for the old days 
of strife, when none who could take need lack, till 
his daily toil became the greatest drudgery ; it 
was with difficulty he could work, and he even de- 


150 


A STOUT HEART. 


spised himself for doing it, wild gushes of passiou 
came over him, he was like one demented. He 
was hoeing, perhaps ; would smash the hoe upon 
the ground, and break the handle short off. Per- 
haps he was putting a hoop on a herring barrel ; 
would stave the head in with a blow of the adze, 
fall to cursing the barrel, the herrings, and ilka 
fisherman who ever drew a net, kick the barrel, 
herrings and all, into the loch, and fling the adze 
after it ; and, after the tornado had expended it- 
self, set to work repairing the damage. 

Consideration in respect to the influence of such 
frenzy upon his children, and the reproaches of his 
conscience, led him to severe struggles for the 
mastery of this savage temper, so different from 
his usual demeanor. But he met with very little 
success. 

The instructions of Mr. Stewart, however, and 
the reading of the Scriptures by him in his hear- 
ing, put him upon a new method of seeking relief 
whenever he felt the demon rising. If opportuni- 
ty permitted, he left his work, went away, and 
prayed almost frantically for help to cast him out, 
and went back, calmed and strengthened, to his 
labor ; thus, also, in confession after having broken 
his resolve. 

No one knew of these struggles, no ear but that 
of the Almighty heard his cries, for he confined his 
thoughts to his own breast, and crept to his place 
of prayer as stealthily as though he were tracking 


DEATH OF ANGUS. 


151 


the red deer among the hills. And his wife, al- 
though she noticed the improvement in his temper, 
had no suspicion of the influence moulding the 
rugged nature of her husband with the silent, irre- 
sistible power of frost driving wedges into the 
seams of the rock. 

She obtained the first intimation of it at his re- 
turn from market, though even then not fully en- 
lightened in respect to the matter. 

The visits of the minister, and the consequences 
naturally following, had occasioned considerable 
change in the domestic affairs of the Macgregors. 
With true housewifely pride, Alice wished to pre- 
sent a decent appearance when the minister came. 
She had long lived in the Lowlands, was familiar 
with the modes of life there, and had sent by her 
husband for some groceries to which they had not 
been accustomed, and for other articles, among 
them a candlestick and wicking, and quite set her 
heart upon having them. 

Hitherto the turf fire had in general answered 
every purpose. Its dull light sufficed to talk, spin, 
and knit by. The old tales and the old songs 
seemed all the more heartsome and real when told 
or sung by its faint glow ; and when sewing was 
to be done, the slips of bog fir amply supplied the 
deficiency ; and they, save when company was to 
be entertained, made short evenings. 

But now it was another matter. There were 
reading and writing to be done. Alice, also, had 


152 


A STOUT HEART. 


observed that Mr. Stewart read with difficulty by 
the unsteady, sputtering torch ; that his book and 
his linen were sometimes soiled with soot. Her 
pride was touched, and she resolved to have some 
dips. Besides, they had candles at Hugh Ander- 
son’s, and the minister went there. With this end 
in view, she persuaded Allan to kill a bullock, and 
take the meat and hide to market with him, in 
order that she might obtain the rough tallow to 
make soap and candles, instead of, as ordinarily, 
driving the animal to the butcher. 

Allan went alone upon this occasion ; and never 
did his wife and children await his return with a 
more lively interest. But when, on his arrival, her 
impatience led her to meet him at the shore, he 
had brought not half of the articles she so much 
desired, nor even those most coveted ; but, instead, 
a handsome Bible of large type. 

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she exclaimed, in 
a reproachful tone, — 

Wae’s me, Allan ! What ailed ye to buy a buik 
ye canna read a word in, and nae the things I gied 
ye sae mony charges aboot, an’ I amaist brackin’ 
my hert for wantin’ ? ” 

“ Dinna greet, wife,” replied the delinquent. 
“ Gin I canna read, I love to luik at it, an’ have it 
in the house. Ye maun ken it’s nae sma’ trouble 
for the minister to fess his buik ilka time ; an’ ye 
ken weel hoo doon-herted we a’ were whan he left 
it ahint him, and cud nae read to us. Forbye 


DEATH OF ANGUS. 


153 


Bome gran’ fowk frae the duke’s, or frae Glasgow, 
whiles come to hunt the red deer, or shoot muir 
fowl, and, gin we hae the buik, will, aiblins, read 
to us.” 

I’m nae sayin’ but ye may be verra richt, 
mon ; but ken we should treat the mon o’ God wi’ 
respec’. He comes an’ stops a’ nicht wi’ us, an’ 
only eats at Hugh Anderson’s, whaur they hae 
candles an’ a lum (chimney). We want ither things 
mair jist noo nor a buik.” 

“ 1 wad sooner treat the Almighty wi’ respec’ 
nor his servant. Canna He what gied us the her- 
rings, an’ the bear (barley), an’ the sheep, gie us 
mair ? They’re a’ his ain, ye ken ; an’ there’s mair 
market days nor one.” 

I hae noo doubt there’ll be market days, good 
mon ; but ye’ll hae naething to buy wi, an’ noo ye 
haen (had).” 

Disappointed and downcast, she retraced her 
steps to the house, talking to herself and say- 
ing,— 

“ I dinna ken what has coom owre my gude 
mon ; but I ken this : he wadna hae dune sic a 
thing ance ; an’ I niver heard him hand on that 
gait afore. It’s unco queer. I trust he’s nae by 
himsel’ (distracted) wi’ a sare hert for the loss o’ 
his father. Sic things hae been.” 

Father,” said Jamie, ye hae brocht the buik, 
an’ the paper, an’ the knife, — save us, what a 
braw knife I — but nae the sclate, or quills, or 


154 


A STOUT HEART. 


ink ! an' hoo I’m to git on, wantin’ ’em, I canna 
tell.” 

Allan quieted the fears of his son by saying 
he thought they could manufacture the rest 
themselves. 


POVERTY THE MITHEE O’ ARTS. 155 


CHAPTER XVII. 

POVERTY THE HITHER O’ A^ ARTS.” 

T he next morning they started for the hills, and 
concealed themselves in a ravine at the foot 
of a mountain. In the course of half an hour two 
large eagles, after scaling a while, lighted on the 
edge of a bare cliff. Allan fired. One of them 
fell, and rolled almost into their concealment. 
When Jamie brought it to his father, the latter, 
plucking a few of the wing feathers, said, — 

“ There are your pens, my laddie. Ye maun 
make shift wi^ thae belyve I’se gie you somethin’ 
better.” 

Proceeding half a mile farther, they came to a 
ledge of rotten rock, impregnated with copperas 
(iron pyrites). Allan gathered some pieces of this 
rock, on which were little globules of pure cop- 
peras, and put them in a bag he had brought. He 
then, with his knife, shaved a quantity of bark 
from the trunk of a blackthorn, saying, — 

Here’s your ink, Jamie.” 

Hoo will ye mak ink o’ them, father ? ” 

<^Boil the bark lang time i’ water wi’ the staoes. 


156 


A STOUT HEART. 


It will be a’maist black, syne we’ll pit some o’ the 
black till’t your mither colors her plaid wi’, an’ it’ll 
be richt black.” 

The next day his father made Jamie an inkstand 
out of the tip of a bullock’s horn, and set it in a 
foot-piece of lead. 

Noo, father, gin I only haen a sclate ! But ye 
cud niver mak a sclate. I trow ye cud niver mak 
a sclate.” 

“ Mayhap I hae dune mony things I thocht 1 
cudna do — wha kens ? ” 

Before daybreak, two days after, Jamie and his 
father set forth in the boat, for they had a long 
distance to go. An hour past noon they landed at 
the foot of a precipice, and, making the boat fast, 
ascended to the summit. 

“ What an unco scaur, father ! The stanes are 
nae like stanes at hame. They’re blue, an’ fu’ o’ 
cracks. They stan’ up endways like leaves o’ a 
buik.” 

They’re sclates, laddie. I’se sune lat ye see.” 

From the perpendicular side of the cliff, with an 
iron bar he had brought with him, Allan worked 
off the stone, that was shelly, full of holes and 
cracks, and weather-worn, till he arrived at the 
sound and fresh-colored beneath. He then split 
off a number of large, thick pieces, sufficient to 
make fifty school slates, if a workman had the mak- 
ing of them ; but, as Allan was ignorant of the 
business, and expected to spoil the greater portion 
of the material, he was resolved to procure enough. 


POVERTY THE HITHER O’ A’ ARTS. 


157 


With the point of a scythe, in which he had filed 
teeth, he sawed the slab into proper dimensions, 
after having, with a broadsword in lieu of a chisel, 
split it, and then polished the surface by rubbing 
with the sawdust. 

He was so elated by his success, after putting a 
frame to it, that he made one for each of the girls, 
though without frames, and concluded by making 
the pencils, sawing them up square, and rubbing 
with a sandstone. Indeed, it was a deal of work, 
with only the scanty means at his command, to 
make a frame, since he was compelled to grind 
the point of a broken dirk, to answer the purpose 
of a chisel, and that of a file for a brad-awl. He 
felt remunerated, however, by the rapture of 
Jamie. 

Thus, by all manner of pinches, make-shifts, by 
selling nearly everything that was salable, and liv- 
ing themselves upon the refuse, did the Macgregors 
contrive to equip Jamie for his visit ; and of a 
Saturday morning, just as the sun rose over the 
hills, he set out with his little bundle in his hand, 
accompanied a short distance by his sisters, arriv- 
ing at the manse quite foot-sore from the galling of 
his feet by the shoes, having never worn a pair be- 
fore. He was welcomed in a manner that made 
him feel at home directly. 

A superb figure was that of James Macgregor, 
although he appeared to much greater advantage 
in the Highland garb than in that mixture of both 


158 


A STOUT HEART. 


Highland and Lowland dress made for him by the 
united efforts of Hugh Anderson’s wife and his 
mother. 

His frame, the thews and sinews of which were 
hardened by toil and athletic exercise, combined 
the proportions both of strength and activity. His 
military drill had conferred ease of manner, and an 
innate pride and conscious integrity self-possession. 
The harsh lineaments common to his race were in 
him greatly softened by a smile irresistibly attrac- 
tive, and his features, while full of ardor and deter- 
mination, betokened warm affections. 

‘‘ Do you call this young man a boy ? ” said 
Mrs. Stewart to her husband. “ He looks like a 
king.” 

But, notwithstanding so much that was engaging 
in the appearance and kindly in the nature of 
James, there was a lurking devil beneath this noble 
exterior. He possessed a temper more explosive 
than gunpowder, was subject, like his father, to 
sallies of passion, liable at times to be excited by 
very trifling causes. 

A new world of thought, feeling, and anticipation 
unfolded itself before Jamie, and with rapid prog- 
ress he began to read, and understand what he 
read. His mental life was stirred to the quick. In 
the mean while affairs at the manse moved on 
most pleasantly, and both Mr. Stewart and his 
family became more and more attached to Jamie, 
who, accustomed to the care of cattle, exerted him- 


POVERTY THE MITHER O’ ARTS. 


159 


self to the utmost, by care and industry, both in 
labor and study, to evince his gratitude and im- 
prove his opportunity. 

At the brae, however, literary matters were 
brought to a complete stand-still in consequence 
of his absence. He had taken away the spelling- 
book, which rendered his sisters, who had become 
very much interested in study, disconsolate enough. 
They cried, and importuned their father to buy 
them a spelling-book, who was obliged to tell them 
he had no money ; every penny must go to pay 
the rent. 

Jamie, having outgrown the spelling-book, now 
required others of a different character. This de- 
mand his father felt must be met ; and, as he had 
nothing else to dispose of, he sold a musket and 
bought them, together with quills and paper, while 
Jamie came home, spent the Sabbath, and brought 
with him the spelling-book to the girls, saying he 
could borrow one for occasional use at school, which 
he had now entered. 

The Bible, the purchase of which had so grieved 
Alice, was now for the first time brought into re- 
quisition, Jamie occupying the greater portion of 
his time, while at home, in reading to the fami- 
ly from it, although obliged to spell a word oc- 
casionally. 

“ Noo the Laird be praised ! ” cried Allan, with 
clasped hands and streaming eyes. “ I wad as 
sune hae thocht o’ Ben Lomond’s gaun intill 


160 


A STOUT HEART. 


the sea, as o’ hearing my ain bairn read in sic a 
gait.” 

After Jamie’s return, Agnes undertook to teach 
her father his letters. It was a singular and touch- 
ing sight, this little maid instructing her parent, 
whose locks were beginning to be tinged with 
gray, while he followed slowly with his stiffened 
fingers the letters, and repeated them after her. 

In one corner of Mr. Stewart’s barn-yard was a 
well with a wooden curb, two sides of the curb an- 
swering the purpose of a fence between the yard 
and the road, and also between the former and the 
adjoining field, the neighbors taking, many of 
them, water from it on the street side, and the 
minister from the yard for his stock. A short time 
before the arrival of Jamie, he had purchased 
from a drover a heifer, excessively wild and un- 
manageable. The barn was full of cattle ; near the 
door, at the end of the row, stood this heifer, and 
next to her, in the last stall by the door, a yearling 
was fastened. 

It was Saturday, late in the afternoon ; Mr. 
Stewart was busily engaged on his sermon ; the 
children, it being a half holiday, had been permit- 
ted to go and visit their mates ; Mrs. Stewart was 
repairing a rent in her husband’s black gown, and 
Jamie devouring the contents of a book. The rays 
of the setting sun shining upon the page roused 
him to a perception of the lateness of the hour, and 
he hastened to put up the cattle. 


POVERTY THE HITHER O’ A’ ARTS. 


161 


After the departure of Jamie, not a sound dis- 
turbed the almost perfect stillness, save the rustle 
of the silk, as Mrs. Stewart occasionally shifted the 
work in her lap ; when at once there arose from 
the vicinity of the byre the most piercing yells, 
mingled with curses in Gaelic, the sound of blows, 
and roaring of cattle in mortal terror. 

Mrs. Stewart screamed ; her husband, jnmping 
up in alarm, upset the table at which he was writ- 
ing ; and, followed by the maid servant, they pro- 
ceeded in the direction of the uproar. Upon arriv- 
ing at the barn-yard they saw several of the neigh- 
bors hastening to the spot, part of the well curb 
broken down, the wild heifer trembling in a corner 
of the yard, one of her horns knocked off, the pith 
or marrow started from the head, blood oozing from 
the roots and hanging in clots from the ear and 
head, while streams of blood trickled from each 
nostril. Near to her stood Jamie, with an uplifted 
club five feet in length, his head bare, features 
purple with rage, and frothing at the mouth, while 
the rest of the cattle, in the barn, were roaring 
from sympathy, and striving to break loose. 

What is the matter, Jamie ? ’’ said Mr. Stewart. 

The instant James saw Mr. Stewart, instead of 
replying, he dropped the club, and at one leap 
bounded over the wall that separated the cattle- 
court from the stack-yard, and disappeared. 

Some of the neighbors, looking into the well, 
found the yearling alive and apparently uninjured, 
11 


162 


A STOUT HEART. 


there not being suflBcient water to drown it. With 
ropes they drew the creature up, when it was found 
to have escaped with the loss of some hair and a 
few bruises. 

The heifer being mad with fear and pain, it was 
with great difficulty she was seized, and the mar- 
row of her horn righted up and swathed with 
bandages soaked in tar. Mrs. Stewart, terribly 
alarmed, begged her husband, if ever Jamie showed 
his face again, to send him directly home, for he 
would kill all the cattle and children for aught 
they knew. 

Nonsense, wife ! ” replied der husband ; “ the 
boy^s worth his weight in gold. It’s the devil in 
a man that’s the best part of him when it is sub- 
dued.” 

“ 0, husband, don’t talk so ! He’ll kill us all. 
You never can do anything with him. I am 
sure 1 hope he’ll never show himself again. I 
don’t believe he ever will. He’s a Highlander; 
and I’ve always heard that in the remote High- 
lands they were a cruel and savage race, and de- 
light, like the American Indians, in slaughter. I 
am sure I would not trust the children with him, 
and should not dare to sit at table with him.” 

Mrs. Stewart was of Lowland descent. 

It is a base slander, wife. The Highlanders 
are a brave and generous people, kind and hos- 
pitable; no people in the world more so; only 


POVERTY THE MITHER O' A' ARTS. 


163 


they sometimes go a little too far when their blood 
is up.” 

“ If this young savage's blood should get up 
when you were away, I don't know what I should 
do. I think next time you are gone I shall take 
the children and go to the neighbors.” 


164 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER XYIIL 

THE MACGREGOR RISES. 

O UR young readers, perhaps, would wish to 
know what caused this terrible exhibition 
of passion. When Jamie went out to put up the 
cattle, it was late. He was anxious to finish the 
affair and return to his book. After putting up 
the rest of the cattle, he drove in the wild heifer ; 
but, instead of taking her own place, she went by, 
passed up behind the rest of the cattle to the end 
of the tie-up, and the yearling, imitating a bad ex- 
ample, followed her. 

James turned them out twice, but they repeated 
the act. Beginning to get vexed, he caught the 
heifer by the tail, and bestowed several vigorous 
kicks upon her hinder parts ; on which, giving a 
great leap, she broke his hold, flung him down in 
the filth of the floor, and ran out. 

The Macgregor was now uppermost, and James 
thought only of vengeance. Shutting the door, 
and catching up the axletree of a carriage, with 
an iron ring on each end, he went at them, uttering 
the most savage yells, and bestowing his blows 


THE MACGREGOR RISES. 


165 


alternately, first upon one and then upon the other. 
The yearling, endeavoring to leap over the well 
into the street, fell in. The heifer attempted to 
follow. Her fore feet were on the curb, when 
Jamie struck her with such force as to knock off 
the horn and bring the creature to her knees, and 
before she could rise, inflicted two more blows, 
that made the blood spin from her nostrils. He 
would have killed her on the spot if left alone. 

Nine, ten o^clock in the evening came, but Jamie 
came not. Mr. Stewart was despondent, while his 
wife retired congratulating herself. As the former 
— having been so grievously hindered — sat writ- 
ing, he was interrupted by a timid knock at the 
door. Upon opening it, he was confronted by Jamie. 
Mr. Stewart scarcely recognized him. He was pale, 
his eyes bloodshot, he trembled, was covered with 
dust and straws from a stack in which he had bur- 
rowed, and seemed another person. 

Please, Mr. Stewart,’’ he said, lat me gang 
hame. Ye canna mak ony thing o’ me. ^It’s ill 
getting het water -frae neath could ice.’ An’ the 
first money I earn I’ll pay for the skaith I hae 
done. We’re jist wild Macgregors, as father tould 
ye. I’m clean oot o’ place here. ' It doesna set a 
sow to wear a saddle.’ ” 

‘‘ What good will it do you to go home, Jamie, 
and carry your ill temper with you ? ” 

“ I winna be killing ither fowk’s kye.” 

But you will be nursing a snake in your own 


166 


A STOUT HEART. 


breast, and growing up in ignorance and sin, which 
I cannot abide. I have seen the worst of you, and 
am not discouraged. So kneel down with me, and 
we will seek for help and forgiveness where it is 
to be had.’- 

When the exercise was concluded, Mr. Stewart 
said, — 

Jamie, take care of the beginning. It is ^ easier 
to keep the devil out than to have to put him 
out.' Now wash you, and go to rest. In the morn- 
ing you will be another man." 

No malefactor ever dreaded the gallows more 
than Jamie dreaded to sit down at the breakfast 
table and present himself at church; and he had 
scarcely slept through the night for thinking of it. 
His appearance, however, was such at breakfast, 
and there were in his looks such evidences of 
suffering and sorrow, that Mrs. Stewart, forgetting 
both her fears and her prejudices, strove, by many 
little attentions, to encourage and comfort him. 
His mortification was very much increased by the 
little children asking “ what made him look so 
sorry." 

Mr. Stewart had tied the heifer in another part 
of the barn by herself, and when Jamie went to 
feed her, she ran out her tongue, roared, flung her- 
self back, and would not touch the hay till he had 
left the barn ; and for several days Mr. Stewart 
was obliged to take care of her. All these things 
added to the mortification of Jamie ; but the re- 


The Macgregor Rises. Paj^e 165. 
















THE MACGREGOR RISES. 


167 


suit was most salutary. The severity of the or- 
deal broke the violence of his temper ; and, though 
it by no means eradicated the evil, yet it laid the 
foundation for self-discipline, and passion never 
again obtained the mastery as before. Nor was 
this all. Reflections upon his past conduct grad- 
ually led him to meditate on his relation to God 
and need of divine aid, aroused his conscience, 
and at length brought him upon his knees at the 
foot of the cross. But it was a bitter struggle. 
His religious experience partook of the stormy 
character of his make-up, and he quite astonished 
the staid and easy-going members of the kirk by 
the strength of his convictions, and the ardor, not 
to say furor, of his zeal. 

A symmetrical Christian character was not to be 
looked for in one of his lineage, and whose child- 
hood, and much of his boyhood, had been spent by 
the side and under the influence of Angus Mac- 
gregor, although it was allowed by all that he had 
the root of the matter in him. 

Jamie now commenced the study of Latin, man- 
ifesting a remarkable facility for acquiring lan- 
guages, insomuch that, in a few weeks after, Mr. 
Stewart advised him to begin the study of Greek, 
in order that, on his return, he might be able to 
prosecute it at home, by coming occasionally to him 
to recite. 

Matters now began to assume a more cheerful 
aspect. Through the influence of Mr. Stewart a 


168 


A STOUT HEART. 


school-house was built between Hugh Anderson^s 
and Allan Macgregor’s, and James set over it as 
teacher, which afforded him compensation and op- 
portunity for study. 

Mr. Stewart did not stop here, but made such 
representations to the duke in respect to the Mac- 
gregor family, that he not only permitted Allan to 
occupy more land at the same rent, but increased 
his privilege of fishing and making kelp. 

A slate quarry was now opened in the vicinity, 
packet-boats began to run, Allan had a market for 
his produce at his own door, was able to hire help 
and dispense with the labor of James, who, pur- 
suing his studies unmolested, was nearly fitted for 
college, while the good minister, proud of his 
protege y was devising methods to aid him in his 
farther progress. 

“ A Scotchman and a Newcastle grindstone travel 
a’ the warld ower ; so says the proverb. For a 
great many years emigration from both the High- 
lands and the Lowlands of Scotland to the United 
States of America and the British Provinces had 
been going on and steadily increasing. The Mac- 
gregors had contributed their quota to swell the 
number, being the more inclined to it on account 
of the persecution they experienced during those 
long and terrible years of proscription, when their 
hand was against every man, and every man’s hand 
against them. Many of the descendants of those 
who had, in days long gone by, taken up their 


THE MACGREGOR RISES. 


169 


abode in the confiscated provinces in the north 
of Ireland, also emigrated thither. 

The Macgregors, more than any other of the 
clans, were held* together by the very miseries they 
experienced, kept up communication with each 
other to the extent possible, even with their kin- 
dred abroad ; and it was well known that those 
who emigrated to the States had in general greatly 
bettered their condition. Jamie had long cherished 
the desire of going to this land of promise, as he 
viewed it, and treasured every scrap of informa- 
tion he could obtain in regard to the place, the 
people, and the opportunities, but confined his in- 
tentions, or, rather, hopes, to his own breast, as he 
had neither sufficient money to defray his expenses 
while studying, nor even the cost of his passage. 


no 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


JAMES RESOLVES TO EMIGRATE. 

0 wonder James confined his hopes and his 



plans to his own breast, for in no country, 
at that time, was learning cheaper than in the 
Lowlands of Scotland ; and it would have seemed 
ridiculous to his friends that one just able to live 
at home should aspire to a foreign education. 

It’s some comfort to think about it, though I 
never arrive at it,” said James to himself, and in 
the mean time kept making inquiries, and striving 
in every method to obtain money. He lived at 
home, and thus was enabled to save the greater 
part of his school money. He also added to it by 
teaching navigation to young men intending to 
follow the sea, as the creeks and harbors of Scot- 
land began now to be turned to account, and trade 
was constantly increasing. 

The general assembly now required of those 
entering the ministry in the Highland parishes, 
that they should preach one sermon in Gaelic and 
one in English on the Sabbath, as in the Western 
Highlands Gaelic was almost the universal tongue. 


JAMES RESOLVES TO EMIGRATE. 


171 


James continued to make inquiries quietly in all 
directions, from seafaring men and those who had 
relatives in America with whom they kept up a 
correspondence. 

“ I wish some of the people who have gone from 
this parish would come back and tell us all about 
it/’ said James to Hugh Anderson. They never 
write about the things we most want to know.” 

They’re nae sic fules,” was the reply. 

James had abandoned the broad Scotch since 
going to the manse, except a word now and then, 
or when excited. At such times he fell back upon 
that language in which be could express himself 
the most readily. 

Allan, who was now living easily and laying by 
a little, was accustomed, whenever he sold any- 
thing at an extra price, to make his son a little 
present, who, when his studies permitted, and noth- 
ing better offered, made herring nets. 

“ Spit on a stane an’ it’ll be wat at last,” said 
Jamie, when, according to the best calculation he 
could make, he had saved somewhat more than 
enough to pay his passage, and began to feel quite 
encouraged. Such confidence did he repose in 
his own resources, and so sanguine was his tem- 
perament, that he felt not the least apprehension 
at the prospect of prolonging the struggle in a 
foreign land and among strangers, and resolved 
before long to make his resolution known to his 
father. 


172 


A STOUT HEART. 


The sun was just dropping below the horizon, 
when James, who had remained in the school-house 
after the departure of the children, turned the key, 
and walked thoughtfully homeward. The vaca- 
tion of a week^s duration commenced the next 
morning, and he was deliberating upon the most 
profitable way of spending the time at his disposal. 
His meditations were interrupted by the salutation 
of a stranger, evidently a seafaring man, who ad- 
dressed to him the blunt inquiry, — 

“ Do you hail from these parts ? 

James replying in the affirmative, he said, — 

‘‘ YouVe got a Scotch face, but there’s no burr 
on your tongue, like the rest of ’em. I want to 
find out where people called Macgregors live.” 

‘‘ My name is Macgregor, and I live near here.” 

Then I haven’t made so bad a landfall, arter 
all. They told me aboard the craft I come in that 
they were all Campbells hereabouts.” 

“ They are for the most part ; but a few families 
of Macgregors live among them.” 

The long and short of it is, I’m a Macgregor, 
and Scotch to the back-bone, except the leastest 
streak of Irish, though I was born and raised in 
the States — God bless ’em. But we’ve been there 
so long, we’re just like the rest. My grandfather 
had a brogue. I ’member hearing him, when us 
children made too much noise, sing out, ‘ Hoot 
awa ! ’ I s’pose that’s Scotch for ^ git out ; ’ and 
it’s all the Scotch I’m master of. You see, I’m 


\ JAMES RESOLVES TO EMIGRATE. 173 

mate of a brig at Greenock. We got tore to pieces 
on the passage ; and while the vessel’s repairing, 
I got the cap. to give me liberty to make a land 
cruise. I want to be able to tell the old people, 
when I git home, that I’ve been to the place the 
Macgregors started from. I want to see where 
they lived and were buried, and had them ere big 
fights I’ve hearn my grandmother tell about. 
P’raps you can put me in the way of it, seeing 
you’re one on ’em, and belong here. It’s kind o’ 
nateral, you know, for a man to like to know where 
he come from, that is, if he come of any decent 
folks.” 

To say that James was delighted would be too 
feeble an expression. It was the very opportunity 
he had longed for; and taking the seaman home 
with him, he spent the entire vacation in showing 
him the ancient seats of his race, and recounting 
the traditions of the past. 

The sailor knew very little of the history of his 
particular family, merely that they went from the 
parish of Balquidder to the north of Ireland, from 
whence his grandfather emigrated — with a great 
number of other Scotch-Irish, as they were termed, 
from residing in Ireland — to America ; that the 
greater part of them, after exploring a while, set- 
tled in New Hampshire, naming the place of their 
settlement Londonderry, and established a commu- 
nity of their own. Some went to Massachusetts ; 
and others, among whom was his ancestor, settled 


174 


A STOUT HEART. 


in Maine, aa he believed, in a town called Bruns* 
wick, or near there, but afterwards went to Lon- 
donderry and joined the rest. This was the amount 
of his knowledge of the family history, in respect 
to which we will remark that Macgregor's ances- 
tor took up land in Merriconeag, — now Harpswell, 
— about six miles from Brunswick, — on a neck of 
land then a forest, containing four hundred and 
eighty thousand and forty-three acres. This was 
in Indian times. He married the daughter of one 
William Macness, who settled there before him, 
and built a dwelling-house, the timber of which, 
some of it, is still doing service, and afterwards, it 
is said, — because he had difficulty with the pro- 
prietors in respect to his title, — removed to Lon- 
donderry. 

But, meagre as was his information in this re- 
spect, he was able to communicate to James other 
matters of the greatest interest to him. The sea- 
man told him that he “ had once sailed from Bath, 
making several voyages in a Bath ship, and that, 
in going to and returning from his home, the stage 
route lay through Brunswick ; and having heard 
from his folks that it was there, or around there, 
that the first of them broke ground in the wilder- 
ness, he made some inquiries, and found that any 
number of Scotch and Irish Protestants had origi- 
nally settled in that neighborhood, and their de- 
scendants were first-rate, well-to-do people, and 
they had got up a college there, and the president 


JAMES RESOLVES TO EMIGRATE. 


175 


of it was a Scotchman, or of Scotch descent, at any 
rate ; that he was a noble-looking man, and master 
powerful, they said, for a stage-driver once insulted 
him, and he took him off the stage-box, and lathered 
him with his own horsewhip.’^ 

Could I, Mr. Macgregoiy^ said James, “ take 
passage with you ? 

“ I know nothing to hinder. The captain often 
takes passengers. But the accommodations are 
poor.’^ 

Unable to contain himself longer, James told the 
mate his heart ; told him he had been accustomed 
to the water from boyhood, that he had been two 
trips fishing, and inquired if it was not possible 
that the captain would permit him to work his pas- 
sage, or at least part of it ; that he could pull and 
haul about deck, steer his trick, and could soon 
learn to go aloft. 

The mate replied he thought it was very possi- 
ble, for the vessel had lain by so long, the old crew 
had left. He would inquire and let him know. 

In a few days after the maters arrival at Gree- 
nock, where his vessel lay, James received a letter 
from him, in which he stated that it was all right ; 
he had told the captain that James would be a 
great deal better than a green hand, and the former 
was ready to take him. 

Mr. Stewart strenuously opposed his going, but 
his parents consented. Allan then told James that 
there was a small sum of money, once belonging 


176 


A STOUT HEART. 


to his grandfather, that Angus had hoarded to de* 
fray the expense of his funeral, and which he had 
kept in reserve, in case of sickness or death in 
the family ; but now there was no necessity for 
thus doing ; and pressed and compelled him to 
take it. 

May God be wi^ ye, my bairn, said Allan, as 
they parted ; and set a stout heart to a stey 
(steep) brae.” 


BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER. 


177 


CHAPTER XX. 

"blood is THICKER THAN WATER.^^ 

1 1HE vessel in which James embarked belonged 
. in Portsmouth, N. H., where the captain re- 
sided; but the second mate was a Freeport man, 
who gave James much information in respect to 
the adjoining town of Brunswick. When the ves- 
sel was got under way, and heavy work was to be 
done, James proved himself the strongest man on 
board. He therefore experienced very few of 
those provocations that generally fall to the lot of* 
green hands ; and though his temper was sometimes 
stirred, he succeeded in keeping it down, while 
every successful struggle rendered his task the 
lighter. 

James performed his duties so well that the cap- 
tain, upon their arrival at Salem, allowed him ordi- 
nary seaman’s wages, saying that after the first 
week he was worth more than either of two ordinary 
seamen he had shipped on the passage out, and 
permitted him to live on board till he could find 
an opportunity to reach his place of destination. 
There was a coaster in the harbor bound to 
12 


178 


A STOUT HEART. 


Portland, but it was some days before she would 
sail. James might have employed this delay in 
study, and was much inclined to do thus, but felt 
that money was now the most essential thing, and 
hired with the stevedore who was to discharge the 
brig. 

“ Pll risk you, Jim,” said Macgregor ; youVe 
got your eye-teeth cut.” 

Persons of a passionate temperament often lack 
judgment; but James, except when actually en- 
raged, always took hold of things by the right end, 
and never acted without reflection. 

The brig being discharged before the coaster 
was ready, James went to the captain of her, and 
offered to help load and find himself for his passage, 
as he could live on board the brig. To this the 
captain, who was anxious to get away, agreed. 

Upon arriving at Portland, he found, at Long 
Wharf, the sloop Jane, Captain Chase, bound for 
Brunswick ; and as he was not to sail till the next 
afternoon (Saturday), James returned to the coaster, 
and helped discharge for his board. The captain 
of the brig paid him eight dollars, the stevedore 
five ; his passage in the sloop was fifty cents ; and 
thus, when landed at Brunswick, he was twelve dol- 
lars and a half better off than when he left Scot- 
land. In addition to this, he had studied a good deal 
on the passage, in his forenoon watch below, while 
his shipmates slept, mended their clothes, or played 
cards. 


BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER. 


179 


This was the identical vessel in connection with 
which Morton figured so largely many years after, 
and familiar to the readers of the previous volumes. 
The sloop was crowded with Brunswick people 
returning from Portland, and who inhabited the 
heads of the bays and the points that skirt the 
town seaward. They were neighbors, and many of 
them relatives. The most of them, though owning 
farms, were also ship-builders and owners ; others, 
carpenters, who worked by the day in the ship- 
yards. It was late in the year. Some had been 
finishing new vessels at Portland, as it was ne- 
cessary to launch and get them out of the bays be- 
fore they froze up. Some had been there to pur- 
chase tools, others to obtain winter supplies. 

Captain Chase, who was loaded “ scuppers to 
with freight for traders in Brunswick, many of 
whom were on board, and, moreover, delighted 
with so large a complement of passengers, placed 
some spirit on the cabin table, which soon pro- 
duced its effect in stimulating conversation. It 
was, Where is this vessel? ” and “ Where is that 
vessel ? How much did she make on the last 
voyage ? W^here do you calculate to cut tim- 
ber this winter ? ” From discussing vessels, they 
passed to the state of the crops, and West India 
freights, and the price of lumber. 

James, amid this clamor of tongues, remained 
silent, no one speaking to or apparently noticing 
him, and a prey to that peculiar melancholy that 


180 


A STOUT HEART. 


oppresses one upon finding himself solitary among 
a party enjoying themselves. Having learned, from 
his friend the mate of the brig, that many of the 
inhabitants of the place were of Scotch or Irish 
descent, he began to scan the features and note 
the language of the passengers, in order, by seek- 
ing for national characteristics, to divert his 
thoughts, and prevent them from dwelling upon 
his own forlorn condition. 

While thus occupied, he came to the conclusion 
that a thick-set, quick-spoken person, somewhat past 
middle life, was certainly of foreign extraction, 
though whether Scotch or Irish he was puzzled to 
tell ; and also noticed that this individual regarded 
him, from time to time, with evident interest and 
curiosity. Tired of solitude, and resolved to test 
the correctness of his opinion, he addressed a 
question to him in broad Scotch. The man started, 
and looking him full in the face, said, — 

“ Then you’re from the old country.” 

Ay.” 

Scotch ? ” 

“ Ay.” 

Then you’re a Protestant, most like ? ” 

Ay, I’m all that.’’ 

“ How long since you landed ? ” 

“ About ten days.” 

But you’re not alone ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied James, — dropping the 
Scotch. 


BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER. 


181 


“ You'll be looking for work on a farm or in the 
woods ? " 

No, sir. I heard there was a college here, and 
am going to enter it ; that is, if they'll let me." 

“ You look like a man that's been out in the 
weather, and not a bit as though you'd been shut 
up stewing over books." 

I was brought up to work, and I worked my 
passage coming across." 

Well, give us your hand ; I like you. You're 
as strapping a young fellow as I've seen this many 
a day. My people came over from the old country. 
What may I caU your name ? " 

Macgregor." 

“ My name is Lewis Simpson. I don't pretend to 
a great deal of religion ; but I'm a thorough-going 
Protestant. I use them well that use me well. 
I always keep good line fence, and give good 
weight and measure." 

We may add to this, that Uncle Lewe, as he 
was frequently called, was a person of strong 
feelings, and would make any sacrifice for one he 
liked. All men have their imperfections, and Un- 
cle Lewe, like the Macgregors, was troubled with 
a temper easily roused, and it as quickly subsided. 
But he had a noble spirit of his own, was honest, 
hospitable to the greatest extent, generous, and 
kind to the poor or any one in distress. 

A person in his vicinity came to him in the spring 
for potatoes. The boys went down cellar with 


182 


A STOUT HEART. 


him to measure them. Uncle Lewe, knowing the 
man bore a suspicious character, looked into the 
window, and saw him take a piece of pork from a 
barrel and put it in his bag. When the man came 
out he fell upon him, and, had not the boys inter- 
fered, might have finished him. The thief fled 
for his life, while Uncle Lewe, after pacing the 
floor till his passion cooled, said to his son, — 

Take the horse and carry the potatoes to that 
miserable devil, and let him have the pork too, for 
I s’pose he’s starving.” 

Now, Uncle Lewe had taken a liking to James ; 
so, after introducing him to a large number of the 
passengers, — Dunlaps, Skollfields, Merrimans, Giv- 
ens, — who, he told him, were all tarred with 
the same stick,” — all Scotch-Irish by descent, — 
said, — 

My lad, you’re all alone in a strange land ; 
don’t know the way to the falls (village), where 
you want to go ; don’t know a soul when you git 
there ; and perhaps you haven’t got more cash 
than you know what to do with. You see I’m a 
rough-barked, plain-spoken old fellow. Go home 
with me, — one of the boys will be at the wharf, 
with the oxen, to take over some iron I’ve got 
aboard, and we’ll put your things right in, — and 
stop with us over Sunday. Now you needn’t make 
any excuses : if I didn’t want you I shouldn’t ask 
you ; you may be sure of that.” 

James accepted the invitation as frankly as it 


BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER. 


183 


was offered, and they walked around the head 
of the bay to Mare Point, where his entertainer 
lived, which is about seven miles in length, the 
farm being situated near the junction of the point 
with the main land. 

When they reached Uncle Lewe^s hospitable 
threshold, James found the supper table in the 
floor, and a large family of sons and daughters at 
all the different stages of growth, and in robust 
health. 

There was a roaring fire in the huge fireplace ; 
guns were hung on brackets and set up in the 
corners ; and there was meat enough on the table 
to have lasted a Highland family a month. James 
could not but contrast these evidences of thrift 
with the cot of a Highland tenant, built of mud 
and stones, but one window, and some holes filled 
with turf, a mud floor, peat fire, a hole in the roof 
for the escape of smoke, and rent to pay at that. 
He began to feel that the country had not been 
misrepresented to him by the mate. 

There was a spirit of hospitality pervading the 
household, and all connected with it, that seemed 
a matter of course. 

“Lord bless you, Mr. Macgregor,'^ said Uncle 
Lewe, “ donT talk about giving trouble and all 
that sort of thing ; there’s so many of us, one more 
don’t make any sort of difference.” 

In half an hour he felt as much at home as 
though he had always lived there. 


184 


A STOUT HEART. 


In addition to this, everything was on such a 
magnificent scale, and in perfect keeping. If the 
fireplace was large, there were hemlock logs three 
feet in diameter to fill it with a perfect volcano of 
flame ; the biscuit were piled on the table by the 
peck ; the pork and the beef were cut in thick 
slices ; the sugar was in a large bowl, the milk in 
a big pitcher ; and the whole thing was plethoric, 
and rounded up to the proportions of a noble hos- 
pitality. The very house dog was fat. Nothing 
about the premises was nipping or angular, and 
James soon found his host was one who used no 
words for effect, but said just what he meant, and 
that he could take no surer method to gratify him 
than by making himself perfectly at home, and 
putting his hospitality to the severest proof ; there- 
fore, on Monday morning he accepted at once the 
offer of a horse to ride to the college, and present 
himself for examination. 

We cannot forbear informing our young friends 
that Uncle Lewe’s peculiarities were shared by 
his descendants. His son Robert chanced to con- 
ceive as great a liking for our humble self as did 
his father for James Macgregor. At that time a 
young minister, a Mr. Dunmore, since a mission- 
ary to Turkey, was preaching in Hallowell, and we 
exchanged pulpits. It was haying time. My 
custom was to ride to Brunswick on Saturday, 
take the cars to Bath, the boat up the Kennebeck, 
and be at Brunswick again by eight o^clock 


BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER. 


185 


Monday. The exchange was made for several 
Sabbaths in succession, as Dunmore was out of 
health. 

Saturday afternoon I bought a new scythe and 
snath at Brunswick. Captain Simpson was in the 
store, and as I passed through it, said to me, — 

“ Mr. Kellogg, what are you going to do with 
that scythe and snath ? ” 

I am going to carry the scythe to a machine 
shop and have it ground, so that when I come back 
Monday morning I can go to mowing.’^ 

New scythes at that time were not ground, as at 
present, nearly to an edge, and it required a good 
deal of time to grind one, and the snaths were not 
spotted. 

“ Put it into my wagon. Idl take it home and 
grind and spot it for j^ou.’' 

But I had rather grind it twice than come clear 
over to Mare Point, six miles out of my way, to 
get it, especially if it is good hay weather.’’ 

“ I’ll bring it round to your house ; you’ll find it 
there when you get home.” 

“ But, my dear man, you wouldn’t wish, a bright 
hay day, when you have three or four men at work, 
to ride around the head of the bay and down the 
neck to my house to bring that scythe ? ” 

If I agree to, I will.” 

I said no more, but put the tool in his wagon. 
The next Monday, when within two miles of home, 
I saw Captain Simpson coming up the old Mare on 


186 


A STOUT HEART. 


the leap, he sitting up in the carriage straight as 
a pump-bolt. 

Good morning. IVe ground her, and hung 
her, and tried her in the grass, and she cuts like 
a ribbon; can’t feel her go through the grass. 
Fine hay day. Good morning.” 


JAMES IN COLLEGE. 


187 


CHAPTER XXI. 

JAMBS IN COLLEGE. 

J AMES beheld, on approaching the place to 
which he had been directed, only a single 
brick building, of three stories, devoid of ornament 
and well nigh surrounded by a forest of large 
pines. There were but five or six houses, near 
one of which was a tavern, kept by one Nichols, 
and another that, recently erected for the presi- 
dent, stood in a small space cleared of trees to 
serve for the college-yard. Previous to the erection 
of this house he had lived in the college with the 
students, and for lack of a bell summoned them to 
prayers by thumping on the floor with his cane. 
It was the day of small things. There were but 
two instructors — the president in natural philoso- 
phy and mathematics, Professor Abbot in the lan- 
guages. The chapel was in the third story, the 
recitations were held in the students’ rooms al- 
ternately, and a small room served for the library. 
The philosophical apparatus did not require much 
room, seeing that it consisted of a surveyor’s com- 
pass and chain, and a sextant presented to the 


188 


A STOUT HEART. 


president by one of his former parishioners (a sea 
captain) at Beverly. 

James had visited the college buildings in Glas- 
gow, and as he looked upon these humble begin- 
nings, and knew by the description given him it 
was the college, he said to himself, This is just 
the place and just the country and people for a 
poor bairn like me. There’ll be no dukes or lords 
or ^ gran fowk ’ to look at me out of the corners of 
their eyes, as though I were a brock (badger), for 
the most of them have seen hardship themselves.” 

James presented to the president the letter of 
introduction from Mr. Stewart, who took occasion to 
give some slight sketch of the difficulties with 
which he had been compelled to struggle, his an- 
cestry, and peculiarity of temperament. The con- 
tents of the letter excited the greatest interest in 
the mind of the president in respect to James, and 
being thus made aware of his ancestry and early 
associations, he was the better prepared to deal 
with any discrepancies of character, and not to 
expect a religious experience similar to that of a 
youth trained from childhood in the precepts of 
religion and fed upon the Assembly’s Catechism. 

Uncle Lewe had told James that the president 
“ had a heart as big as an ox, and was mighty free 
with anybody that had Scotch blood in his veins ; 
for though he was born among the Scotch-Irish in 
Derry, N. H., his parents were born in Scotland.” 
When he had read the letter, the worthy president 


JAMES IN COLLEGE. 


189 


greeted James with a warmth that fully bore out 
Uncle Lewe’s assertion, and informed him that the 
term was nearly closed, when there would be a 
vacation of eight weeks; that he might be ex- 
amined and enter the class at the commencement 
of the spring term, and if deficient in any study, 
he could bring it up during the long vacation. 

But,’’ said James, ‘‘I may not have studied the 
same text-books with the class.” 

“ That will make no difference : you may have 
read as much Latin and Greek as is equivalent to 
the amount required by our rules ; and so, in regard 
to mathematics, you can be examined as to the 
amount of your knowledge : if that is sufficient, we 
shall not, in the circumstances under which you 
come to us, insist upon nice distinctions.” Indeed, 
it is probable the good man would have gone much 
farther in respect to smoothing difficulties when 
the candidate was a Scotchman and a member of 
the kirk of Scotland. 

James, being examined, was found fitted to enter 
the Sophomore class. The president would have 
James to dine with him, for he wanted to ask him 
any number of questions in respect to Scotland; and 
the boy felt so much at home that he told the presi- 
dent all his history, and that he intended to hire a 
room in some cheap locality and board himself, 
living in the same manner as he had been wont to 
at home, till he ascertained what his father could 


190 


A STOUT HEART. 


do for him, and what opportunities there were for 
earning as he went along. 

The president proposed to obtain a school for 
him during the vacation; but James replied that 
he hardly cared to teach till he was better ac- 
quainted with the manners of the people, and, more- 
over, wanted to make himself familiar with the 
studies of the present term which the class he was 
about to enter had been over. 

His host then told him he would probably not 
find what he was in quest of in the vicinity of the 
college ; but if he did not care for the long walk, 
there was a Mrs. Young, a widow woman of excel- 
lent reputation, who lived near the mills, and often 
boarded persons of good character who worked in 
them ; that she was poor, and had seen a great deal 
of trouble, but bore up under it all with a most 
cheerful Christian spirit, and concluded by giving 
him a note of introduction. 

There was not a particle of meanness in the dis- 
position of James ; he would not have received a 
dollar in charity, but his circumstances compelled 
the strictest economy and the closest calculation ; 
and one motive that led him to emigrate was to 
escape the well-meant kindness of Mr. Stewart, 
who wished to place him on a charitable founda- 
tion — a thing the Macgregor spirit could not brook. 

James soon found the abode of Mrs. Young. It 
was a house of one story, but large on the ground, 
and stood near the bank of the river, with no out- 


JAMES IN COLLEGE. 


191 


buildings except a shed for wood. There was about 
an acre of land pertaining to it, the greater portion 
of which lay on the bank that sloped to the water, 
all save a little garden patch lying common ; while 
the ceaseless din of mill-saws, and enormous piles 
of boards, shingles, and clapboards, denoted the 
principal occupation of the inhabitants. 

Mrs. Young showed him two rooms very well 
furnished for the times, remarking that these were 
all she had.’^ 

“ Indeed, my good woman,’' said James, these 
rooms are entirely beyond my means. Have you 
no room ? I care not how small or poor it is, or how 
poorly furnished, if it only has a fireplace at which 
I can boil a pot.” 

“ I have only one room more that has a fire-place, 
and it is an open room.” 

“ What is that — open 7 Has it no door ? ” 

We,” said Mrs. Young, “ call a room not finished 
an open room.” 

She took him to a small room on the back side 
of the house, having only a single floor, and not 
plastered or even “lathed;” but there was a 
fireplace, an iron bar built into the chimney to 
hang a pot on, iron dogs in the fireplace, and a 
pair of rusty shovel and tongs. It was full of 
miscellaneous articles ; the single window was fes- 
tooned with cobwebs, the chimney, laid in clay 
mortar, stood exposed, and bundles of herbs and 
cast-off clothing were hung on the walls. 


192 


A STOUT HEART. 


I think this room will be just what I want. 
But have you a bedstead ? 

“ You see, Mr. Macgregor, I had a nephew come 
to me last fall, and I was full. He said, ^ Aunt, you 
must take me if I have to sleep in the ash-hole. 
I can get my meals at John Berry’s till you have 
room at the table.’ I bought a tick, and filled it 
with straw, and he went to the mill, got four jice 
(joist) and nailed them together for a bedstead. It 
is up garret; you can have that.” 

‘‘ Did he sleep soundly on it? ” 

I guess he did ; I had hard work to get him up 
to breakfast.” 

“ I’ll take that ; it compares perfectly with the 
room, and likewise with my means.” 

“I can borrow a table of my daughter; and 
there’s three old flag-bottomed chairs that I 
tucked up garret to get out of sight, but they 
look as well as the rest.” 

And what will you ask me to keep the room in 
order? ” 

“ I should be ashamed to ask anything for such 
a place ; but it is worth something to take care of 
the room. I’ll let you have it for two shillings a 
week, and I’ll do your washing and mending.” 
When can I come ? ” 

“ To-morrow morning by ten o’clock.” 

When James returned he could scarcely recog- 
nize the room. Mrs. Young had washed the win- 
dow and put a curtain to it ; by some means or 


JAMES IN COLLEGE. 


193 


other, she had procured part of a sail that once 
belonged to a scow, and spread it over the floor, 
thus covering the knot-holes and joints of the 
boards, and with it concealed the rough bricks and 
clay mortar of the chimney, blacked the rusty 
iron dogs (andirons), and scoured the shovel and 
tongs. The bed-clothes were good, perfectly 
clean, and so disposed as to conceal the bedstead. 
She had also purchased a small looking-glass, 
covered the table with a handsome cloth of her 
own weaving, and made a cheerful fire, which 
of itself imparted an entirely new and home-like 
aspect to the room. 

James expressed his astonishment and delight 
in such strong terms that Mrs. Young, much grati- 
fied, invited him to dine with her. Accepting the 
invitation, he, at the conclusion of the repast, asked 
his hostess where she procured her milk, wood, 
and provisions. 

She replied that her wood she got at the mills 
for nothing — slabs and butt-chips; shavings from 
the shingle weavers ; her milk of a neighbor ; and 
other things of the country people and at the 
grocery. 

Do they give away the slabs, Mrs. Young? 

“ Yes, indeed ; they are glad to ; they fling ^em 
out of the tail of the mill to get rid of ’em ; if they 
didn’t they would have no room around the mill ; 
the slabs would drive ’em out. It is a nice chance 
13 


194 


A STOUT HEART. 


to get slabs now, because they are sawing hard 
wood logs for vessels-planks.^’ 

James bought some oats, and had them ground 
at the mill ; potatoes, some herrings ; made a board 
to bake a cake on before the fire ; bought milk and 
butter, and lived in the same simple manner to 
tvhich he had been accustomed at home ; went 
Into the recitations of the class as a spectator, 
'since the term was to close in a few days ; became 
Stcquainted with some of his future classmates; 
and began to read the Latin and Greek the class 
had gone over during the term, in order to be pre- 
pared for examination at the close of the year. 

He now imagined he could live better, and at 
the same time more economically, than he was 
then doing, and thought the vacation was just 
the time in which to attend to the matter. As he 
walked down to the mills revolving the subject 
in his mind with an anxiety proportionate to its 
importance, he observed a boy loading shingles 
on a cart, thought the work was rather too much 
for him, and recollected he had seen him employed 
thus for several days. 

^^My boy,’’ said James, where are you hauling 
those shingles to ? ” 

Ain’t haulin’ ’em nowhere, mister ; on’y startin’ 
’em up on ter the flat ter get ’em out of the way, 
cause the vessel can’t take ’em yet a while.” 

Where do you live, and what is your name ? ” 

Wal, I stay down to Maquoit, and my name’s 


JAMES IN COLLEGE. 


195 


Woodside. I don’t call it livin’ ter have ter han- 
dle these green shingles, and pile ’em up two or 
three tier high.” 

“ Do you know of anybody in your vicinity who 
has a cow to sell? ” 

“ Yes, Mr. Mumford (Mountfort) has got one.” 

Is she a good cow ? ” 

“ Yes, but she’s tarnal breachy. I know, ’cause 
I helped him hay, and I milked her.” 

“ What do you mean by hreachy? ” 

“Won’t stop in the pasture; jumps like CaBsar. 
I heard him tell Uncle Ben he’d sell her for ten 
dollars before he’d be plagued with her another 
summer.” 

“ Who has any hay to sell ? ” 

“ Beckon father could spare some ; he sold a ton 
t’other day for seven dollars.” 

“ If I will help you load shingles, will you haul 
some slabs up to Mrs. Young’s for me?” 

“Yes, glad of the chance to change works with 
yer.” 


196 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE ICE BROKEN. 

“ YOUNG/^ said James, ^^how do you 

A.YJL manage to get your slab-wood brought to 
the door and cut up ? 

“ I have to hire it done.’’ 

Will you make and bake my bread for me, 
if I’ll cut your winter’s wood and put it in the 
shed ? ” 

“ Indeed, I’ll be very glad to ; and if you’ll get 
some Indian meal, a little pork, and some beans. 
I’ll bake you a pot of beans and a hot loaf every 
Saturday night for your Sunday dinner.” 

By changing work with the boy, James soon 
had slabs enough hauled to the door to supply his 
own fire and that of Mrs. Young. A few days af- 
ter, he asked her where people who kept cows 
in that neighborhood pastured them. She in- 
formed him that they let them run on the town 
common, and in the openings of the woods there 
were large places burnt over, where there was 
feed enough. A breachy cow, thought James, is 
as good as any if she is to run on the common, and 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


197 


ftach a one can be bought at a less price, and a 
cow would give me nearly all my living. 

Mrs. Young,” said he, “ would you dress the 
butter if I should buy a cow, and take your pay in 
butter ? and you could have the buttermilk in wel- 
come to mix up your bread.” 

“ Try me, and see.” 

“ Would you not, when you have boarders, as 
soon buy milk and butter of me as of Williams, or 
at the store? You would get better weight and 
measure.” 

“ Certainly I would.” 

Mountfort asked twelve dollars for his cow, and 
James offered him eight. After talking a while, he 
fell to ten, and at last concluded to take nine, if 
James came after her. Woodside asked eight for 
his hay. James offered five, and at length six; 
and Woodside took it, saying he had sold for seven, 
but had to take store pay. 

Resolved to have a warm place for his cow, 
James dug into the side of the bank, thus forming 
three sides ; then, following his Highland instincts, 
he waited for a rain-storm, — for the ground was 
slightly frozen, — and built up the front wall of 
stones and clay, and made the roof of slabs. The 
creature has a better house than many an honest 
man in the Hielands,” said James, when he had 
finished his work. After a month’s experiment, he 
found it did not cost him fifty cents a week to 
live, besides his room reut. His cow-house cost 


198 


A STOUT HEART. 


him but twenty-five cents in money, the price of 
boards for the door. 

Upon the next lot stood a large shed used for 
the storing of clear and seasoned lumber, but then 
empty, and Mrs. Young obtained permission for 
him to put his hay there. He now found that he 
was not seriously diminishing his finances, and 
therefore, with a free spirit, gave himself up to 
reading and study. In the course of a month, he 
began to feel the want of that exercise in the 
open air to which he had all his life been used, 
and wished he could find some work that would 
afibrd him both exercise and remuneration, but 
could think of none that would not interfere with 
his studies. 

The opportunity, however, soon presented itself. 
The house occupied by the president was the 
property of the college, and wishing to possess 
some land in his own right, he bought a piece of 
one Stanwood, on which was a house, and forest- 
land adjoining it : the lot extending a mile in one 
direction through this forest, he resolved to make 
a road, in order that the land might be accessible, 
and hired James, with others, to fell the trees, 
frequently going himself, and permitted him to 
work by the hour ; thus he obtained all the ex- 
ercise he needed, was paid for it, and when the 
cow calved in thfe spring, and the calf was sold, 
and the milk, he found himself the recipient of a 
trifling income. 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


199 


When the spring term commenced, James was 
ahead of his class, so that for the first half of the 
term the lessons in the languages were to him 
reviews, and he immediately took a high rank. 
He was treated with the greatest kindness by his 
fellow-students, who often invited him to their 
rooms ; but he always managed to excuse himself 
in some way, as he did not wish any of them to 
call on him at Mrs. Young’s, and see in what man- 
ner he lived. Thus he went along enjoying the 
respect of all, but entering into intimate relations 
with none, while his heart at the same time longed 
for the companionship of some of his mates. A 
part of the class thought him proud and reserved, 
but some of them guessed the true reason of his 
reserve. 

One day he saw a man making Virginia fence 
with slabs ; he took the hint, and when the spring 
opened, procured slabs from the mills, and fenced 
in Mrs. Young’s land that lay common, and spread 
over it a heap of ashes that had been ten years 
accumulating in the rear of the house ; made the 
garden, putting on the dressing afforded by the 
cow ; and, as the result, cut almost hay enough to 
winter her, and more vegetables than himself and 
Mrs. Young could consume. The president, who 
took careful note of all his proceedings, said to him, 
after the success of this latter enterprise, Mac- 
gregor, I shall be compelled to believe in the doc- 
trines of metempsychosis.” 


200 


A STOUT HEART. 


Why SO, sir ? ” 

Because your soul must have once inhabited 
the body of a Yankee.” 

We have a proverb at home, ^ Need maks a man 
o’ craft.’ I never knew I had so much of calcula- 
tion in me, till with small means I set out for an 
education ; but I trow it maun e’en be owre shoon, 
owre boots, wi’ me. Now, it’s do or die.” 

If James had but few companions or intimates 
in college, he had plenty out of it, since he soon 
made the acquaintance of all the Scotch-Irish in 
the neighborhood, and even to a greater distance. 
Among his classmates he was polite, pleasant, 
and reserved ; but when he got among the Simp- 
sons, Givens, and Skollfields, and others, he was 
an entirely different being ; all reserve was thrown 
off ; the frost melted ; he told them stories of the 
Highlands, and they were not one whit behind in 
relating Indian tales and fights, in which they or 
their ancestors had taken part. 

James had hitherto been so entirely occupied 
with his studies and with labor, that he did not 
feel the need of exercise, and had little time or 
disposition for recreation ; but as the weather 
became pleasant in the succeeding spring, and 
his acquaintance with his classmates was extreme- 
ly limited, he began to feel the necessity of some 
change of scene, and also to long for companion- 
ship of some kind. 

I never saw such a flat country as this,” said 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


201 


James to himself; “just like a house floor. What 
would I not give for a cliff with a brook pouring 
over it, and the oak and the birch, and the sough 
of trees, and the bonnie ash kissing the water ! 
Anything but these eternal pines, and the hot dry 
sands.’’ 

James was anxious to find the spot where the 
ancestor of Macgregor, the mate, had first settled 
on coming to America, as that officer had informed 
him it was in Brunswick or thereabouts ; but all 
the inquiries he had as yet made failed of their 
object. Mrs. Young told him she would ask Hugh 
Dunlap, who was well versed in such matters, but 
she had not done it. 

In order to dissipate his lonely feelings, and at 
the same time prosecute the inquiry, he resolved 
to go down and see Uncle Lewe, and upon his 
arrival, found him with his hand in a sling. 

“ What is the matter with your arm ? ” 

“ Got kicked with a gun. Walk into the house, 
and make yourself at home. I’m just going to 
look at a tree I’ve a notion of cutting for a 
bowsprit, and will be back to rights.” 

Mrs. Simpson,” said James, “ how did your 
husband get hurt so seriously?” 

“ You see, Mr. Macgregor, father’s dead in love 
with a gun, and it almost kills him to lose a chance 
at the wild geese. They often rise out of Ma- 
quoit Bay, and fly over the house into Merry- 
meeting Bay, or into Harpswell, and the land being 


202 


A STOUT HEART. 


higher here, when they pass over they are often 
within shot; and father this time of year keeps 
that long gun you see in brackets loaded ready 
for them, and often takes one out of a flock. 
There’s a half-witted fellow round here, — Nat 
Adams, — and he plagues us to death. If he flnds 
a gun loaded, he will take and fire it.” 

Can he shoot anything ? ” 

No, indeed ; if he could it would be some use, 
but he only wastes powder and shot. In order 
to break him of it, my son put an awful charge of 
powder and shot in the gun, so that Nat might 
get kicked and be glad to leave the gun alone, 
and didn’t think to say anything to his father 
about it. Yesterday morning he was at the door, 
heard the wild geese conking, saw they were 
going to fly low, caught the gun, and ran out 
on the hill. My son ran after him, screaming, 
^ Father, don’t fire ; she’ll kick you to death ; 
she’s loaded for Nat Adams.” 

^^Too late now, Bobby,” he says, and pulled 
away ; the gun flew out of his hands, whirled 
him round on the side of the hill, and he fell. 
Robert ran, and I ran, and the girls. Robert 
says, — 

“ Are you hurt bad, father ? ” 

Are the geese hurt, Bobby ? ” 

“ There’s two come down.” 

Then I guess I ain’t hurt much.” 

When Uncle Lewe returned, James said, — 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


203 


“ Mr. Simpson, did you ever know or hear of 
anybody of my name settling in this town ? 

“ No ; there never was anybody of your name 
settled here.'^ 

Are you sure ? ” 

Sartain sure. Why ? 

Because the mate of the vessel I came over 
in was named Macgregor, and said that his folks, 
when they came over, settled here or somewhere 
round here, staid a while, and then moved to 
Londonderry, in New Hampshire.’’ 

What was the one’s name that he said settled 
round here ? ” 

“ Thomas.” 

Well, I kin tell 3^ou where he settled — on 
Harpswell Neck.” 

Where is that ? ” 

Why, almost abreast here ; if it wasn’t for the 
trees takes the sight off, I could show you the 
house he built. He came here a single man, and 
had money to buy land, and married Rosanna 
Mackness, the darter of old William Mackness 
that was one of the first settlers on Harpswell 
when it was Merriconeag, and owned any quan- 
tity of land, and lived to be one hundred and 
three.” 

“ How I should like to see the house one of my 
clan built and lived in I You know we Highland* 
ers are famous for counting the kindred.” 

Well, it’s jist as I tell you. I was a boy, 


204 


A STOUT HEART. 


fifteen years old, living at home at the head of the 
bay ; father was building a fisherman, and was 
going to Portland in a canoe to git some iron, 
and jist as lie was starting, Macgregor came 
over, and another man with him. He told father 
the man’s name was William Sylvester, and how 
he had sold land to him, and they wanted to 
go to Portland with us, and did go ; and Syl- 
vester had his deed with him, and was going 
to git it put on record.” 

Is Sylvester living now ? ” 

He died about four years ago ; but his son 
Malborough lives on the place.” 

In the same house Macgregor built ? ” 

“ Yes; it’ll stand to the day of judgment, if it 
ain’t burnt or torn down, for it’s solid timber.” 

How I should like to see it ! ” 

“ Well, you shall see it. Can you row a boat ? ” 
Try me, and see.” 

“ The tide is coming into the creek ; I can’t do 
anything with this lame shoulder, and we’ll go 
over there. They are real friendly folks, the 
Sylvesters.” 

“ Father,” said his wife, you won’t get over 
there till after supper time ; better have something 
to eat first.” 

No, we’ll eat arter we come back.” 

As they neared the opposite shore, James 
caught the sound of running water ; shipping 
his oars and turning to look, he beheld a lofty 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


205 


iron-bound shore, in some places almost perpen- 
dicular, the land rising in natural terraces till 
it culminated in a sharp, conical hill. Directly 
in front of them the brook, whose sound had 
caught the ear of James, poured its waters, 
white with foam, over a high cliff to the beach. 

“ Keep her a little more to the sou-west, Mr. 
Macgregor ; the landing-place is in that bight of a 
cove you see yonder.’^ 

As they entered and landed in this cove, the 
shores of which sloped till they terminated in 
a ravine, the edge of which, as well as the main 
shore, was clothed with a heavy growth of tall 
canoe birch, oaks, rock-maple, with here and 
there a scattering pine, or spruce, while another 
brook poured its waters over the rocky bank 
to the beach. 

“ 0, Mr. Simpson,’^ cried Jamie, I am a thou- 
sand times obliged to you for bringing me here ; 
it does my heart good to hear that brook run, 
and see the white foam on the water of the 
largest one, and this red land just such as we 
have in the Highlands. You must know I grew 
up beside a burn that fell over the bank, like that 
upper one, into Loch Fyne, only the cliff is fifty 
feet higher, and the burn ten times as large.’’ 

“ That brook,” said Uncle Lewe, is full now, 
but it dries in midsummer; but this one is fed by 
a spring.” 

They were received with the greatest kindness 


206 


A STOUT HEART. 


by Squire Sylvester, who pressed them to eat ; but 
Uncle Lewe declined, saying that Mr. Macgregor 
merely had a curiosity to see the house that one 
of his name, and a Highlander, had built, and they 
wanted to save the tide in order to get into the 
creek. 

The house was very large on the ground, and 
divided into two rooms below. It was built of 
timber. The timbers at the bottom were two feet 
in depth by ten inches thick, and as they went up 
grew thinner to six inches and of the same depth ; 
they were hewn to a proud edge, locked together 
at the ends, and the whole surmounted with a 
gable roof, thus forming a large garret, that was 
divided into rooms. The walls, of smooth hewn 
timber, were not plastered ; indeed, there was no 
need of it, as far as warmth was concerned, for the 
house was as tight as a churn ; but they were 
washed with skim-milk and blue clay every spring. 

The whole space from the house to the shore 
was filled with apple trees of very large size, 
some few grafted. 

It seems strange to me, Mr. Sylvester,” said 
James, “that a Highlander, who was probably 
born and bred in a cot made of mud and stones, 
should have built a house so substantial and re- 
quiring so much labor as this. What a deal of 
work it must have been to hew a tree three feet 
in diameter down to ten and six inches ! ” 

“ He had his father-in-law, Mackness, to help him 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


207 


and show him how, and I have understood that 
Macgregor had more money than most emigrants.’’ 

“ They needed thick walls when this house was 
built,” said Uncle Lewe, “ for it was all a man 
could do, and more than many could do, to keep 
the scalp on their head ; it was built soon arter 
Phinehas Jones surveyed the neck for the Pejep- 
scot proprietors in 1731, and it took eight soldiers 
to keep the Indians off while he was doing it.” 

The barn was framed and boarded, but without 
sills, the feet of the posts setting on stones. 

“How happened it,” said James, “that the 
barn was not built of timber and logs ? ” 

“ That,” replied the squire, “ was built some 
years after the house. Macgregor boarded with 
Mackness while he was clearing his place and 
building his house ; it was some years before 
he cut any hay of consequence, and what he 
did cut he stacked, and kept his cattle in a log 
hovel.” 

“ You do not know how it gratifies me, Mr. 
Sylvester, to see some land that is not a dead 
flat like that around the college ; and though the 
hills are trifling in comparison, this spot reminds 
me of home.” 

“ If you want to see hills and gullies, Mr. Mac- 
gregor, you must go over to the Great Island ; you 
will find enough there, for it is not much else but 
mountains and gullies ; this is rough and stubborn 
enough for me.” 


208 


A STOUT HEART. 


Did Macgregor plant the orchard ? 

No, my father did ; these trees are forty years 
old ; the land was never ploughed, and they have 
had the whole strength of it ? 

‘‘ Where did Macgregor go ? ’’ 

To Granvill, Nova Scotia, from here, and then 
he moved to Londonderry, as I have heard. He 
was a most resolute man, but high-tempered, and 
had trouble with the town.” 

Then it was not with the proprietors, about 
his betterments ? ” 

No ; with the town.” 

When they returned, Mrs. Simpson had one 
of the wild geese Uncle Lewe shot, roasted for 
supper. 

There were two of his classmates, George Rol- 
lins and Frank Bradford, who had conceived a 
great liking for James, and cherished the highest 
opinion of his abilities, not merely as a recitation 
scholar, but by listening to him in the prayer 
meetings of the village church, v/here James 
laid aside his diffidence and manifested an ori- 
ginality of thought, fervor and wealth of lan- 
guage, in most refreshing contrast with the other 
exercises of the occasion ; while James, on his 
part, felt an equal regard for them. Thus they 
went along from week to week, looking at one 
another, sometimes taking a walk together, and 
all the time longing for a more intimate acquaint- 
ance. 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


209 


“ Frank/’ said George, “ this Highland laddie 
of ours is a splendid fellow ; he well nigh took me 
off my feet last night at meeting. I do wish he 
would like us as well as we like him.” 

“ He does like us just as much as we like him. 
I can see it in his face, and by the way he grips 
my hand ; but they say he is poor, and lives in a 
poor place down by the cove, and thinks, I sup- 
pose, if he makes free with us and goes to our 
rooms, we will call on him, and he don’t want us to 
see how he lives.” 

‘‘ Let us call on him.” 

I don’t like to call on a fellow that won’t go 
to my room, when I’ve asked him a hundred 
times, almost coaxed him, and who has never 
returned the compliment.” 

I don’t care ; I must know that boy ; I can’t 
live so any longer. I believe he would take it 
kindly, and I am going this very night.” 

If you go I’ll go too ; we’ll call him to the 
door, and if he seems not to like it, we’ll ask 
him to take a walk over to Topsham, and then 
give him up.” 

About half past seven that evening, Mrs. Young 
informed James that two students wished to see 
him at the door. James blushed and seemed very 
much distressed. Guessing the reason, she said, — 

Take them into my best room, Mr. Macgregor.” 

Very much relieved, James received his visitors, 
and invited them to come in and spend the even- 
14 


210 


A STOUT HEART. 


ing in so cordial a manner, that they complied at 
once, without any reference to the walk to Tops- 
ham. James, though somewhat confused at first, 
soon recovered his composure, threw oflp all re- 
straint, and they passed a most pleasant evening. 
Rollins asked him, in the course of the evening, 
why he never engaged with the rest in kicking 
football, wrestling, and other games ; upon which 
James told them frankly that he was obliged to 
occupy his spare time, except an occasional walk 
with them, in labor of one kind or another. 

Youthful attachments are always fervent, and so 
intimate had they become in three hours, that 
James accompanied them on their way to college, 
till they came to the swamp at the foot of the hill, 
where they sat down on the top of a great rock, 
as large as an ordinary country school-house, that 
lay about where the sidewalk in front of Captain 
Robert Skollfield’s house now runs, and talked and 
talked till a late hour. 

Come, Mac,’’ said Rollins, “ go and stay with us 
to-night ; we’ve got a lounge in our room, and we’ll 
get the morning lesson together.” 

‘‘ My landlady will sit up for me.” 

“ Go and tell her ; we’ll go with you.” 

James did so, and engaged Mrs. Young to milk 
the cow for him in the morning, and took break- 
fast with Frank and George at their boarding- 
place. Thus was the ice broken, the friendship 
cemented, and the yearnings of all parties satisfied. 


THE ICE BROKEN. 


211 


Allan Macgregor, the year James left home, had 
joined Hugh Anderson, who vvas well to do, in the 
manufacture of kelp ash. The article rose on 
their hands, they made a very handsome thing 
off’ it, and Allan remitted to his son twenty pounds ; 
upon which James took a room in college, gave up 
cooking for himself, and boarded with Mrs. Young. 
A debating society, that afterwards ripened into 
the Peucinian, was now formed, in which James 
was much interested, as the badge was similar to 
that of the clan Macgregor. 


212 


A STOUT HEART. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE OLD SPIRIT BREAKS LOOSE. 

J AMES now permitted Mrs. Young to have the 
milk of the cow for his board, while he fur- 
nished the hay and cut the wood as before ; in- 
deed, about all the hay was cut on her land ; while 
he took care of the garden, and performed all the 
duties of a son to this excellent woman, to whom 
he had become strongly attached. 

He now joined in the sports and athletic games 
of college, and proved himself far superior, in this 
respect, to all the rest. In addition to his skill 
with the broadsword, to the use of which he had 
been trained from infancy, he was equally skilful 
with the cudgel. All these accomplishments be- 
came known as his circumstances improved and 
his reserve wore off; and he was now the most 
popular fellow in college. 

Happy in the affection of Frank and George, 
the esteem of his classmates and instructors, 
James flattered himself that the savage temper 
of his race was completely crushed. But one 
evening he engaged in a discussion with Rollins 


THE OLD SPIRIT BREAKS LOOSE. 


213 


respecting the comparative merits of the High- 
landers, Lowlanders, and English, as soldiers, in 
the course of which Rollins averred that with all 
their bravery, the Highlanders were in the end 
always worsted, and could never make any perma- 
nent conquest, or acquire territory outside of their 
own barren hills. James became enraged, and 
flung his bosom friend into the fireplace with such 
force as to completely stun him, and cut his head 
severely on the edge of the andiron. 

When Rollins recovered his senses he found 
himself on the bed, James hanging over him, his 
tears drenching his face, while he cried, — 

“ Dinna die, dear George, dinna die ; ohon ! 
ohon ! 

Where there was so much affection on both sides, 
and sorrow on the part of the aggressor, reconcil- 
iation was not difficult ; and they became closer 
friends than ever. Frank Bradford was sworn to 
secrecy, and the affair never got abroad. It was, 
however, a sad revelation to James, showing him 
that the snake, if scotched, was far from dead. 

Nothing of the kind occurred for a long time, 
and James began to hope the victory was gained. 
The Peucinian society was formed ; he took an 
active part in the debates that were held in the 
students^ rooms, and, though sometimes much 
excited, never exceeded the bounds of decorum. 
It was customary, in order to give variety to 
the meetings, for one of the members to read a 


214 


A STOUT HEART. 


dissertation advocating some view or principle ; 
after which it was discussed in debate by the 
society. One evening the subject chosen was the 
character of the Duke of Cumberland, both as a 
general and a man, of which the writer took a 
most favorable view, extolling him highly, and 
dilating upon the disastrous consequences that 
would have resulted, both in regard to Christianity 
and the progress of the race, had the Highlanders 
triumphed at Culloden, and a Stuart mounted the 
throne. 

James, with the greatest difficulty, managed to 
restrain himself till the reader closed, when, leap- 
ing to his feet, he uttered a most furious invec- 
tive against the Duke in English-Gaelic and the 
broadest Scotch, styling him a butcher, recount- 
ing his cruelties after the battle of Culloden; 
and then abused, in the most outrageous manner, 
the author of the dissertation, calling him, in Eng- 
lish, an unhanged blackguard for extolling so 
great a villain, and applying to him all those op- 
probrious epithets in which the Scotch dialect 
abounds. 

The president of the society, after in vain call- 
ing him to order, requested him to relieve them 
of his presence : but the Macgregor spirit was now 
roused beyond all control. He grappled that dig- 
nitary, and shook him as a terrier would a rat. 
This was the signal for the whole body to attack 
and endeavor to force him from the room. James 


THE OLD SPIRIT BREAKS LOOSE. 


215 


flung them right and left, till, getting hold of a 
broom, he broke the brush from it, and taking the 
rest by the middle, dealt his blows with such 
science and force, that his opponents were glad to 
escape from the room, and even the building, the 
greater part of them with broken heads, and the 
remainder effectually frightened, and followed 
down stairs by the revengeful G-ael, who was now 
in a frame to have shed blood in earnest. 

When he reached the threshold, not a student 
was to be seen, though the sound of flying feet 
was to be heard in the distance. As he stood in 
the stillness of the summer night, beneath the calm 
light of stars alone, and the cool breeze fanned his 
burning brow, the waves of passion began to sub- 
side, and reason to resume her sway. He stood 
a few moments silent, then, clasping his hands, 
groaned aloud, exclaiming, — 

Again have I given way to my accursed tem- 
per, and this time past all redemption.’^ 

Flinging himself upon the grass, he rolled in 
anguish, and then, without again entering the col- 
lege, hurried from the spot. 

One of the fugitives made his way to the presi- 
dent’s study, and gave him a most exaggerated 
account of the affair. The president, well know- 
ing the temper of the race from which James de- 
scended, and already put on his guard by the letter 
from Mr. Stewart, was not so much surprised as 
he miglit otherwise have been. Upon reaching 


216 


A STOUT HEART. 


the building, he went directly to James’s room, 
found the door unfastened, and the occupant ab- 
sent. After this, he assembled the students, and 
heard their version of the affair. The greater por- 
tion of them united in requesting his expulsion from 
college, averring that they could not feel secure 
in the society of a person of such great physical 
strength and outrageous temper. George Rollins 
then rose, his head bloody and bound with a hand- 
kerchief. As soon as he began to speak in favor 
of overlooking the offence of James, on condition 
that he apologized, he was greeted with hisses. 

Gentlemen,” said George, pointing to his bleed- 
ing scalp, “ James Macgregor has pounded my 
head to a jelly ; and if, while suffering under these 
injuries, I am disposed to speak in his behalf, it 
certainly becomes you to hear me.” 

This was received with cheers, and he was told 
to go on. He then proceeded to give a brief history 
of the influences to which his friend had been 
subjected in childhood and youth ; the effbrts he 
had made to subdue this violent disposition that 
he was born into the world with. Until that 
night he had been able to abstain from all mani- 
festations of it ; had become the most popular fel- 
low in college ; and was now, doubtless, suffering 
the agony of one on the rack. Bradford, also, then 
spoke much in the same strain. The tide of feel- 
ing evidently began to turn, and many retracted 
their previous opinions and expressions. 


fOHMANDREH-SON. 











THE OLD SPIRIT BREAKS LOOSE. 


217 


The president then said, “ Young gentlemen, 
it has been well observed by a member of the 
class, that it is extremely ungenerous to refuse 
forgiveness to a first offence; and I think I can 
place this matter before you in such a light that 
you will not refuse to cheerfully accord it. This 
young man belongs to one of the most fearless and 
vindictive of the Highland clans ; made thus, to a 
great extent, by unheard-of cruelties and persecu- 
tions. His grandfather fought in the battle of 
Culloden, where two of his sons were slain. He 
witnessed the cruelties inflicted by the Duke of 
Cumberland upon his countrymen and friends ; 
was hunted by the soldiery among the hills, bear- 
ing with him the father of this young man, then a 
child. Reflect that from his earliest years this 
youth was taught by his grandfather and father, to 
look upon the Duke of Cumberland as a monster 
in human form, and that, too, while ignorant of 
the precepts of religion, and destitute of secular 
knowledge, not having seen a book at an age when 
you were fitting for college ; and estimate, if you 
can, what must have been the effect of such a 
laudation of that personage acting upon his preju- 
dices and peculiar and passionate temperament. 
Knowing, as I do, the Highland temper, I am not 
surprised that it produced a temporary madness. 
I think you will agree with me, that although his 
conduct was outrageous, it is a peculiar case, and 
one that admits of great palliation,’’ 


218 


A STOUT HEART. 


The conversation of the president produced the 
desired effect, and he invited the students to meet 
him and Macgregor at his house the next evening. 
Some few were unwilling to fall in with the gen- 
eral opinion, but they made no opposition, believ- 
ing that Macgregor would leave rather than make 
any concession. 

The president was very much troubled, he being 
deeply interested in James ; and it was likewise the 
first difficulty that had disturbed the harmony of his 
administration. Calling Rollins to him, he said, — 

“ I have understood from Macgregor that you 
are his most intimate friend.’^ 

Yes, sir.” 

“ Find him if you can to-night, and bring him to 
my study. I shall be there till eleven o’clock. If 
you cannot find him by that time, ask and persuade 
him to come in the morning.” 

Rollins went to Macgregor’s room, then to Mrs. 
Young’s, but did not find him. It was a pleasant 
night in the latter part of summer. The moon 
just rising, he recollected that James was fond of 
walking in a part of the old twelve-rod road that 
then ran in the rear of the college, and through a 
dense growth of very large pines. Hastening 
hither, he saw him pacing back and forth in the 
road, and approaching, extended his hand. 

George,” said James, “ how can you give your 
hand to one who has abused your friendship as I 
have ? ” 

Never mind that ; what is done can’t be helped. 


THE OLD SPIRIT BREAKS LOOSE. 


219 


I am no fair-weather friend. Come, sit down on 
this windfall, and let us talk it over.” 

Rollins then informed James of what had been 
done, and that the president wished to see him 
directly. 

I should,” said James, “ have left the room 
when I saw the scope of that villanous disserta- 
tion. But I remained, and became so excited that 
for a few moments I was nearly frantic. You may 
well think I bitterly regret what I have done ; but 
I can neither face the president nor make apology 
to the students. I had rather leave town. I shall 
never be able to control my temper, or be fit to 
live in society. I will go back, catch herrings and 
raise oats in the Highlands ; it is all I am fitted 
for. I don’t wish to be seen around college, and 
must trust to your friendship to pack up my things 
and send them to the sloop.” 

Rollins forbore to combat this resolve, but con- 
tented himself with trying to prevail upon him to 
call on the president. It seemed for a long time a 
hopeless task, and he was on the verge of relin- 
quishing the attempt in despair, when another 
mode of operation presented itself. 

James,” he said, I know you are passionate, 
and when excited have the temper of a veritable 
fiend, and stick at nothing ; but I never thought 
before that you would do a downright mean ad 
in cool bloody 

‘‘ If you think I ever have done or would do a 
mean act, you surmise that which is false.” 


220 


A STOUT HEART. 


“You came here a stranger; the president — 
noble man as he is — received you as a Scotch- 
man, with open arms ; his house has been your 
home ; he has done all in his power to encourage 
and aid you. This night, when every student ex- 
cept myself and Frank were for expelling you 
neck and heels, — and not to blame either, — he 
pleaded your cause. His affection for you has not 
been diminished one hair by your recent act. He 
has requested you to call on him. If you leave 
town without doing it, you will perform the mean- 
est, most low-lived act I can conceive of, prove 
that the religion you profess and make so much 
ado about is a transparent sham ; and if you wish 
to finish me for saying it you can. I am not able 
to resist you.^’ 

“ ril go, George. Pll punish myself. 0, won’t 
I punish myself! ’’and arm in arm they, with rapid 
steps, went on their way. As they neared the 
house, James asked his friend to go to his room 
and sit up for him ; or if he was long absent, go 
to bed, as he should probably leave before the 
prayer-bell rang, and wanted to bid him farewell. 

Rollins was possessed of that religion which 
consists in deeds, not in words ; and after lighting 
the lamp, he bent the knee in prayer for his friend, 
and then made a desperate effort to get the morn- 
ing’s lesson ; but his thoughts wandered so much 
that he gave it up, and, going to his own room, said 
to his chum, who was just going to bed, — 


THE OLD SPIRIT BREAKS LOOSE. 


221 


Frank, read over the morning lesson with me ; 
Pve persuaded Jim to go see the president, and I 
can’t confine my thoughts, I’m so stirred up.” 

Eleven, twelve o’clock came, and James had not 
returned. Rollins drew favorable conclusions from 
the length of his stay, and was about to retire, 
when he heard the step of James upon the stairs, 
who, upon entering, flung himself into a chair 
with a deep sigh. There were traces of tears on 
his cheek, and he seemed completely exhausted. 

“ You look,” said George, like a person who 
has been through a fever.” 

I have ; half a dozen. What think you 1 have 
done ? ” 

Done right, I trust.” 

I have promised to meet the students at the 
president’s house to-morrow night, and apologize. 
But I don’t dread that so much ; the worst was, 
making up my mind to do it. But I know it is my 
duty, and I will do it.” 

That is the noblest thing you ever did.” 

I see and feel it is right ; but it was a bitter 
cup ; for my religion — if I have any — is of recent 
date ; and I was trained from childhood to consider 
it mean to submit to an injury, or confess a fault.” 

Are you going in to recitation ? ” 

No ; perhaps none of them would speak to me ; 
it would be awkward. I’ll keep out of the way 
till night, and not meet them again till I meet them 
at the president’s, and take a tramp in the woods, 


222 


A STOUT HEART. 


or down to Mare Point, to change the scene and 
quiet my nerves.” 

When Rollins woke in the morning, James was 
gone. The meeting at the presidents passed off 
pleasantly. James made a full acknowledgment, 
that was cordially accepted. They partook of a 
collation together, and it proved to be, in respect 
to James, a wholesome, if bitter experience ; for 
though the next winter he taught school, and ever 
after engaged in the debates of the society, his 
temper never mastered him again. His attach- 
ment to Rollins became stronger than ever ; and 
they were called in college shovel and tongs. 

At the beginning of the senior year he received 
a larger remittance from home than before, upon 
the receipt of which he gave the cow to Mrs. 
Young, whose land and garden, with a little prov- 
ender, now, in consequence of his care, produced 
sufficient to winter her. 

He would never tell any one, even Rollins, any- 
thing in relation to his interview with the presi- 
dent, save that he advised him to resolve less 
and pray more, and watch more carefully the first 
impulses of passion; and that he had found the 
advice profitable. 

Returning to his native country after graduat- 
ing with honor, he found his family living in a 
stone cottage the duke had built on the place. 
His father, however, began to feel the effects of 
age, and needed his care ; he therefore remained 


THE OLD SPIRIT BREAKS LOOSE. 


223 


at home, and pursued theological studies, under the 
direction of Mr. Stewart, for three years ; at the 
expiration of which time his old antagonist, Robert 
Campbell, married his eldest sister, and became a 
member of the family ; assumed, with his father, 
the lease ; thus enabling him to leave home, feel- 
ing that his father was provided with all the aid 
to till his land that he needed. 

The practical knowledge James Macgregor had 
acquired in obtaining an education, the severe con- 
flicts with his own easily-besetting sin, rendered 
him a most efiicient minister of the New Testa- 
ment ; as did also his intimate acquaintance with 
the resolution, tact, and skill in adapting means to 
ends, possessed by the yeomanry of New England. 
Though not less devoted, he was infinitely more 
practical and useful than the majority of his breth- 
ren. It was not long after assuming the charge 
of a parish before he attended a meeting of cler- 
gymen, where all the addresses were pitched in 
the minor key, and the participants, in doleful 
measures, lamented the obduracy of the people, 
the little interest they took in the affairs of their 
souls, and that prayer, they had reason to fear, was 
greatly neglected. 

When the last speaker had concluded, James burst 
upon the astonished assembly like a thunderbolt. 

It’s a sore time,” he shouted, when the mouse 
looks out o’ the meal barrel wi’ a tear in her eye. 
Souls ! Men have bodies as well as souls j and 


224 


A STOUT HEART. 


it’s hard to be poor and honest. Prayer is good ; 
blit prayer won’t fill an empty stomach. It’s ill 
talking to a poor cotter about his soul and his 
prayers, when his rent is behindhand, his children 
starving, and he so desperate with cold and hun- 
ger between the present sorrow and the future 
dread, that he cares but little whether he goes to 
heaven or hell. 

“ I have seen how men live and labor beyond 
the sea, and learned from it to devote a good part 
of my time and thought to benefiting the bodies 
of my people, teaching them to read and think for 
themselves, contriving work for them to do, better 
methods of tilling the land, to make a better 
use of the little they have ; and thus dealt with, I 
believe they will have a heart to thank God, and 
^.he ear be more ready to hear the Word, when the 
hunger-pain is not gnawing at the heart-strings.” 

Thus did this fierce Macgregor, his fervid na* 
ture and burning passions, by a bitter experience 
subdued, not crushed, chastened, but not emascu- 
lated, devote himself to both the temporal and 
spiritual interests of his people, till men lived in 
comfort, and paid their rent, on the same acres 
where for years they had lingered in a state of 
semi-starvation ; and lads who had wandered bare- 
foot and in rags all over the moors and hills, now 
catching herring, now getting a week’s work in 
harvest, and living from hand to mouth, became 
thrifty farmers or well-to-do mechanics. 


THE OLD GLORY SERIES. 

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER, 

0 ** The Bound to Sttcceed Series" ** The Ship and Shore Series,** He, 

Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA Or the War Fortunes of 
a Castaway. 

A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA Or Fighting for the 
Single Star. 

FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS Or Under Schley on 
the Brooklyn. 

UNDER OTIS IN THE PHILIPPINES Or a Young Officer 
in the Tropics. 

THE CAMPAIGN OF THE JUNGLE Or Under Lawton 
through Luzon. 


PRESS NOTICES. 

“‘Under Dewey at Manila* Is a thoroughly timely book. In perfect S3nnpathy with 
the patriotism of the day. Its title is conducive to its perusing, and its reading to 
anticipation. For the volume is but the first of the Old Glory Series, and the im- 
print is that of the famed firm of Lee and Shepard, whose name has been for so many 
years linked with the publications of Oliver Optic. As a matter of fact, the story is 
right in line with the productions of that gifted and most fascinating of authors, and 
certainly there is every cause for congratulation that the stirring events of our recent 
war are not to lose their value for instruction through that valuable school which the 
late William T. Adams made so individually distinctive. 

“ Edward Stratemeyer, who is the author of the present work, has proved an extra- 
ordinarily apt scholar, and had the book appeared anonymously there could hardly 
have failed of a unanimous opinion that a miracle had enabled the writer of the 
famous Army and Navy and other series to resume his pen for the volume In hand. 
Mr. Stratemeyer has acquired in a wonderfully successful degree the knack of writ- 
ing an interesting educational story which will appeal to the young people, and the 
plan of his trio of books as outlined cannot fail to prove both interesting and valu- 
able.” — Boston Ideas. 

“ Stratemeyer’s style suits the boys.'* — John Terhune, Supt. of Public Instruc- 
tion, Bergen Co., New Jersey, 

** * The Young Volunteer in Cuba,’ the second of the Old Glory Series, Is better 
than the first; perhaps it traverses more familiar ground. Ben Russell, the brother 
of Larry, who was ‘ with Dewey,’ enlists with the volunteers and goes to Cuba,' 
where he shares in the abundance of adventure and has a chance to show his coyrage 
and honesty and manliness^ which win their reward. A good book for boys, jiving 
a ^tKxl deal of information in a most attractive form.” — ifniversalist Leader 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price by 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, 

BOSTON. 


OLIVER OPTIC’S BOOKS 


All»Orer-the- World Library. By Oliver Optic. First Series. 
Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1. A Missing Million; or, The Adventures of Louis Belgrade. 
3, A Millionaire at Sixteen ; or. The Cruise of the “ Guardian 

Mother.” 

3. A Young Knight S^rrant; or, Cruising in the West Indies. 

4. Strange Sights Abroad; or, Aja ventures in European Waters. 

No author has come before the public during the present generation who 
has achieved a larger and more deserving popularity among young people than 
“ Oliver Optic.” His stories have been very numerous, but they have been 
uniformly excellent in moral tone and literary quality. As indicated in the 
general title, it is the author’s intention to conduct the readers 01 this enter- 
taining series “ around the world.” As a means to this end, the hero of the 
story purchases a steamer which he names the “ Guardian Mother,” and 
with a number of guests she proceeds on her voyage. — Christian Worh, JV. Y. 


All-Over-the- World Library. By Oliver Optic. Second 
Series. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1. American Boys Afloat; or, Cruising in the Orient. 

S. Tbe Young Navigators ; or. The Foreign Cruise of the 
« Maud.” 

8. Up and Down tbe Nile ; or. Young Adventurers in Africa. 
4. Asiatic Breezes ; or. Students on the Wing. 

The interest in these stories is continuous, and there is a great variety oi 
exciting incident woven into the solid information which the book imparts so 
generously and without the slightest suspicion of dryness. Manly boys 
will welcome this volume as cordially as they did its predecessors. — Boston 
Gazette, 


Ml-Over-the- World Library, By Oliver Optic. Third Sc* 

ries. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25. 

1, Across India ; or. Live Boys in the Far East. 

3. Half Round tbe World ; or. Among the Uncivilized, 

3. Four Young Explorers; or, Sight-Seeing in the Tropics, 

4. Pacific Shores ; or, Adventures in Eastern Seas. 

Amid such new and varied surroundings it would be surprising indeed if the 
author, with his faculty of making even the commonplace attractive, did not 
tell an intensely interesting story of adventure, as well as give much informa- 
tion in regard to the distant countries through ■•vhich our friends pass, and 
the strange peoples with whom they are brought in contact. This book, and 
indeed the whole series, is admirably adapted to reading aloud in the family 
circle, each volume containing matter which will interest all the members ol 
the xaxoYiy.^ Boston Budget, 

V(£ AND SHEPARD, BOSTON, SEND THEIR COMPLETE CATALOGUE FREE, 



APR10 19()a. 


1 


4 


|i 




•v;. •• 


APR 10 1902 


\- 


ti • 


» t 

• 


1 COPY OIL 


V.79K /.A 


ai'K. tu 


M 


. 




D 


APR. 15 1902 

Jk t V - . • 





Vi* V 


•> • 
1 % 


fH 


■ •> 

.. 1 



J 


»* 

‘ • A 




« • I « 

• • ' f 


> 


I 



V 


t 


^ - 


/ 

$ 


i 

* 

• • 


I 


I 



f 


. •% 


< 



. . '■ 

• ♦ 




« 









I 




rr v •'* 




I ♦ 




*7 


4 








LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



